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[Page 397]

You'll be interested to hear Spencers' former tea room manager is now
521120, Private W. K. Murchie
No 5. Canadian General Hospital
and that B.C. headed the list in the Canadian Call to Arms.

"Squire, Milk or Cocoa?" "Jock" the Ward Orderly wakes me up. A "froggie" walks through with "Theee Deleeee Mayle". We're sick of war news.
"Mon ami avez vous le dernier numero de "La Vie Parisienne" ou "Le Sourire?" I anxiously ask.
"Mais Oui mon vieux les voici!" comes the delightful answer. "Thank GAWD!" (spelt with four capitals)

All the books I've found in the ward are two – one Robinsoe Crusoe the other Oliver Goldsmith's unconciously true life of that TERRIBLE OLD WOWSER "The Vicar of Wakefield".
"The Vicar of Wakefield" to quote my immemorial Popsy Wops once more "Rolled Oats in abundance" with thick side whiskers.
If you haven't had the "pleasure" do just read it. It's part of the process – "Eprouver des Sensations" and certainly a literary No. 9 Pill in military hospital parlance after "La Boheme S'amuse"

I must say I have enjoyed this afternoon. Just a real heart to heart talk with the Gwenny Pops. In my last letter I mentioned the medical card above my bed "Incontinence urine" [asterisk – see footnote below] You have absolutely nothing to worry about on my account. Dear Girl I just pray day and night that you may be well and happy and I feel sure that some of those French books however "pollison" they might at first seem will cause many a quick smile and twinkle in the corner of my dear little wife's eyes. Love to all at home. Yours convalescently
Vasco xxxxx for ever and ever and ever.
(not convalescently.) xxxxx. "By Christ what are you writing, a Book artist?" The lastest!

[asterisk] again I repeat, English is no language for lovers.

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