PARIS, December 28th, 1915.
[DEAR OLD MAN:]
Hurrah for the Dictator! He has been a great good friend
to me. I will know to-day about whether I can go back to the
French front. If not I will try the Belgians and then London,
and home. I spent Christmas day in Rome in the catacombs. I
could not wear my heart upon my sleeve for duchesses to peck
at. It is just as you say, Dad and Mother made the day so
dear and beautiful. I did not know how glad I would be to be
back here for while the trip East led to no news value, to me
personally it was interesting. But I am terribly tired after
the last nine days, sleeping on sofas, decks, a different deck
each night and writing all the time and such poor stuff. But,
oh! when I saw Paris I knew how glad I was! What a
beautiful place, what a kind courteous people. We will all be
here some day. Tell Dai she must be my interpreter. All love
to her, and you, and good luck to the syndicate. Your
syndicate. I have not heard from mine for six
weeks. They have not sent me a single clipping of anything,
so I don't know whether anything got through or not, and I
have nothing to show these people here that might encourage
them to send me out again. They certainly have made it hard
hoeing. Tell Guvey his letter about the toys was a great
success here, and copied into several papers.
Goodbye, and God bless you, and good luck to you.
DICK.
