Following is an interesting letter from Miss Sonora Ponder, who is a Red Cross nurse in France, to her friend, Miss Jamie McCullough, at Green Bush: Bept. 29, 1918. My Dear Jamie:—I can’t get a let ter at all yet, don’t expect to get one in less than a month, so wil just have to content myself the best I can by writing to you. Maybe this will reach you in time to wish you a merry Christmas. I have been in camp a week and already feel perfectly at home— couldn't feel any other way with so many of “my own folks” around me. We have plenty of good food. You people back home are taking care of that for us. We eat picnic style all the time. No table clothes or napkins. Not enough cups to go around and we drink out of quart bowls, {is lots of fun, I never enjoyed eating so much iny my life. Why I even like carrots, something I could never eat in my life before. I am quite 9s safe as I would be at home as Sam so far away from the firing lines that I can’t even hear the guns roar. This country is beautiful, so won derfully green, such trees and flow ers and roads that were made in the time of Napoleon. You can walk for hours without turning and there are many old ruins of castles and some beautiful chateaux to see. There are great vineyards of grapes and vege table gardens too. The people are hundred of years behind the times. (I mean the peas ant class.) They wear pointed toed wooden shoes. The men wear smocks and the little boys up to twelve years wear stick aprons over their trous ers. Nearly everyone wears mourn ing—because the country is at war. They ride in two-wheel one-horse carts and they pile as many as eight people into a cart. They make won derful hand embroideried and lace window curtains and hang them up side down. They have quaint old stone builc hes with steep hatched roofs all moss covered, and the family live in one room, the pigs live in another and the chickens in another, and the barn is built on at the back and the cows and horses live there. Did I understand you to say sani tation? No man!They never heard such a word. We marvel at the fact that they can live under such condi tions. We went to church (French Cath olic) last Sunday. Of course we could not understand a word of the service as it was all French. Later, I am just home from chapel service. The protestant chaplain is sick, so the Catholic priest preached for us. If he had not told us that he was a priest I couldn't have told that he wasn't a Baptist preacher. Me thinks we will lose some of our fool ish religious prejudice before this war is over. My dear, there’s so few things I can tell you that I'll have to cut my letter short. Please write me often, I shall want to know everything. Give my love to all my friends, white and colored. With love, I am yours always. Sonora C. Ponder, Base Hospital 67, A. N.C. A.O. P., 798, A. BE. F. France.