During the war a boy from Wiggin, Nova Scotia, who was stationed in Palestine, wrote to his mother as follows:
Dear Mother: I am in Palestine where Christ was born and wish to Christ I was in Wiggin where I was born.
Your affectionate son.
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The other day a returned soldier asked me for a job and as I always like to favor the “vets” I gave him the place. I told him that his duties on the farm would be to get up at 5 in the morning, milk the cows, feed the teams, clean out the barn, haul hay, plow the fields, shock the corn, chore around—
“And is there any clay on your farm?” asked the young man.
“Why, what has that to do with it?” I answered him.
“Oh, I thought maybe I could put in my spare time making bricks.”
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