Translation of Letter.
My Dear Mamma: Your postal card was received yesterday and I read it with much pleasure.
I am always so glad to receive your letters, because you are my first love, my own dearest mother!
I love you more than anything in this world or in Heaven, except the good God and the Holy Virgin.
If you please, send me some money. I want to buy some white sugar, as I don't like the brown sugar they give here.
As this is my first French letter if you please don't make fun over my faults.
I am with all the love of my heart,
Your son,
B. Allen.
Palm Beach, Fla., January.
My Very Dear Child: Papa and I are much pleased with your effort at French letter-writing, you spell as the words are pronounced, but you will soon learn to correct that. Don't forget accents. They are as important as letters in writing French. I enclose two dollars for the sugar.
Papa is improving in health and spirits in this delightful climate. I am writing at an open window, with the odor of roses and Jessamine wafting into my room.
Dearest make good use of your time. Papa is particularly anxious about your arithmetic, and you know that's your weak point. We are so pleased with the "gold certificate," it proves you are doing your best. Pardon the brevity of this letter, Papa is waiting for me to go and watch the alligators sporting in the water, but we won't let them get a bite at us.
Your loving mother,
M. Allen.
P. S.—I should not have said "sporting," for alligators are sluggish beasts, but often may be seen in the mud in clusters, a tail-switching, or a head raised, on the watch for prey.
L'Islet, January 15.
Bien Chère Mère: I have just received a Christmas gift from that old lady we always called "Madame." You know she never would say my name, always calling me "Bon Homme."
The following verse is written on the fly-leaf of the book she sent. Don't you think it cute?
Sans que je te nomme,
Mon petit "Bon Homme,"
Je m' adresse au ciel;
Et je te souhaite
Une belle fête,
Un heureux Noel,
Un coeur pur et sage,
Voilà le présage,
D'un bonheur reël.
Madame.
Avec beaucoup d' amour je suis votre fils.
B. Allen.
Bien Chère Mère: Vous me demandez encore une autre lettre en français! Whew! How am I to manage it? Why on earth do they have male and female verbs, and adjectives, and spell the participles differently at every turn. It's no use, I'll never do it! Brother Director tells me I read well, talk well, pronounce well, that ought to be enough.
Hier j'aidé le frère Pascal, qui est le cuisiniere de porte le bois dans la cuisine, without thinking, j'ai laisser tomber les morceau de bois dans un chaudron de soup.
Le bon frère didn't get mad, he just said: "Tu a fais ton mieux mon petit, voici des pommes en payment de votre ouvrage." I didn't consider it work, it was just play.
J'ai achete' des raquettes (snow shoes) we have a fine skating rink, and we play hockey every day.
I had to buy new moccasins, mine were all cut after a long walk over a rough road. I have a new Cache-nez (muffler) and a surtout; et un casquette Canadian, which covers toute ma tete et mes oreilles, leaving only my eyes and nose free, so I don't feel the cold, although the thermometer is always below zero.
March 5th.
Dear Papa and Mamma: It is now three weeks since I wrote the above. I have been in the infirmary, but don't be alarmed; I'm all right now. The way it was, the boys dared me to climb a telegraph pole covered with ice. As I had once climbed a greased pole, I thought I could manage this one. I succeeded somehow, though I had a hard tussle to accomplish the feat.
The boys cheered and made such a racket, one of the Brothers came out, in my hurry to descend I fell when within a few feet of the ground, and broke my ankle. Dr. Dion, a fine surgeon, set it, and placed my foot in plaster-of-paris. Brother Director wrote to Aunt Lucy and Dr. Carroll, but not to Papa or you, as it was no use to worry you. I have had the best of care, the Brother Infirmarian was a doctor out in the world and knows all about nursing.
I am fed on "sugar and spice and everything nice."
Monsieur Le Curé sits with me every day. I could walk now if they would let me.
I am not losing my lessons, but keep up as near as possible with the classes.
Brother Director hears me the lessons. Brother Paul (the Infirmarian) does not speak a word of English, so that will help my French. Give my love to dear Papa and to Aunt Euhler. I will write her a letter soon, her last about the tame alligator was enjoyed by the whole College. She says you all eat alligator's tails, that the meat is like chicken. I wish you could send one up here, I'd like to taste it. Now don't worry, I'll soon be as well as ever.
J'ai l'honneur de me dire, avec une parfaite affection, Votre fils—Ahem!
Bolax.
Easter Sunday.
Bien Cher Papa et Chère Maman: I still continue strong and well, and pray that you and dear Papa are in good health. I have really tried hard to study and keep the rules of the College. With this I send another "Gold Certificate," which shows I have given satisfaction.
I long so to see you as the time approaches for vacation.
I go to Holy Communion every Sunday and First Friday, but you needn't think I am going to be a Christian Brother, or a Priest. I would be afraid I might get tired and cut up didoes like that Monk we read of in Ivanhoe.
Always votre fils,
Bolax.
P. S.—The Monk's name was Friar Tuck. I remember Uncle Dick telling about him.
"Hurrah, Hurrah! for vacation's coming,
And the weeks of Jubilee!"