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  • Notice: Trying to access array offset on value of type bool in oa_core_visibility_data() (line 607 of /app/profiles/viu/modules/contrib/oa_core/includes/oa_core.access.inc).
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Date: October 8th 1916
To
Marjorie
From
Bernard
Letter

October 08, 1916

Dear Marjorie,

As your letter which came on Monday (enclosing the dress samples, and the chorus-lady snap) is the only one I have received from home this week, I am writing this to you in particular. Also I want to tell you about a very dainty little entre (don't know where the accents should go) we had for dinner last night - poached egg on spinach. The spinach - cooked of course - was chopped very fine and arranged in a flat mound in the centre of the plate with the egg on top. To my taste the combination of flavors was very delicate, and the appearance was attractive. Just enough spinach to form a good bed for the egg.

It has been a very full week - have been out for lunch nearly every day, and walked our legs off. The weather has been wet and disagreeable. I am feeling in good trim, however.

On one of our marches I got next to a fellow I had not really talked to before. Someone had told me that he was an American. He is a Harvard graduate ('09) and has taken some medical work at Harvard. For three years, until the summer of 1915 he was one of Dr. Grenfell's assistants in Labrador. Then he joined the American Red Cross in France; but couldn't stand it being semi-neutral, and enlisted as a Tommy. He is rather a meek-looking little man about 5 feet 4 inches tall. You never can judge by appearances. Naturally he hasn't much sympathy for Wilson, whose latest banality, I understand, is saying that America is quite ready to fight when she knows what she is fighting for. The only thing that is worrying Burton is the bare possibility that his countrymen may further disgrace themselves by returning Wilson to office.

I am enclosing a not altogether satisfactory production which is the product of odd hours. Am a bit uncertain as to whether or not to discard altogether the last stanza. We go to Warwick on Wednesday for musketry, returning on Saturday. Three weeks form now, all being well, we shall be through with our sojourn here and on the threshold of new vistas.

Love to all