Letters From the Front France, Dec. 2, 1916. Dear Mrs. Leach: Last night I was more than delighted to receive a nice box of good things from home. I was agreeably surprised when on delving down into the hidden treasures I found your cake. Everything was in excellent shape. The cake was excellent; in fact, everything was good, and whoever packed it knew their job. I must thank you, Mrs. Leach, for your thoughtfulness. All the boys over here are alike, you know. Our greatest pleasure is to receive letters and parcels from home. If the senders of gifts could only see the expressions on the faces of the boys as they open up their parcels and begin to investigate they would be well rewarded. You know, Mrs. Leach, we are getting a peculiar training over here. We are rapidly getting into more of an inquisitive turn of mind every day, going out on patrols in "No Man's Land." At night we often find the old trenches, old mine craters, old disused German and French dugouts, mine shafts, gun emplacements, bomb and ammunition stores, etc., and it is really most interesting and sometimes, of course, quite exciting. During the day, if quiet, of course, our task sometimes takes us to places back of our line a few hundred yards, which have been wrested from the enemy perhaps for months, but which even yet are quite unexplored. Sometimes, yes, quite often, we find some weird and wonderful things, and of course, the horror of it all is brought near to you, but you simply have to pass on and forget that part of it. The result of all these experiences is, as I said before, to make us all more or less of an inquisitive or searching turn of mind, so that when we get a parcel we, first of all like to know where it is from (fearful, of course, that it may contain some engine of war heretofore unknown or some other infernal machine of which we see many). Then, like a child with a Christmas stocking, we eagerly unpack everything and lay it out on the floor of the dugout (if you're lucky enough to have such a home) in full view of the rest of the boys. Proud we are of our friends--- yes, and of ourselves as we display our stock of good things before the other lads, and how they envy us. Then for the repast----- the cookies, cakes, etc., are merged into one common treasury, and as each fellow gets his piece of cake or shortbread or whatever it may be, he voices his sentiments in true soldierly style (sometimes it may be crudely but always well meant, for soldiers appreciate such kindness), thus, "That's a ------ good cake, Mac, and whoever made it is a cook after my own heart." It is "bon pour les soldats," "good for the troops, and you can tell her when you write that it suits me down to the ground." Well, I think I have shown you pretty well, Mrs. Leach, how the boys over here appreciate a little such thoughtful as yours, so I will not dwell further on that. I suppose Caledonia is still the same good, old place? I must say it would look better to me today than it ever did. It would certainly seem "a little bit of Heaven." One thing is certainly true, that if we ever get back there we will know how to appreciate peace, comfort, good homes, and kind friends. "Home" means more to me today than ever before. It is certainly "Home, sweet home," and we would all rather be there than here. There is a fellow called Fritz about 200 yards away on the other side of No Man's Land, who once got tired of home. Mars offered more inducements to him, and he ventured forth with all his machines of destruction to destroy the "Homes" of Belgium and France, of England and of Canada. He succeeded wonderfully and terribly well. We can see it all around us, and what we can't see we feel most--- the loss of loved ones. However, I believe that Kultur is gradually beginning to think as we think, that "There's no place like home." He has received a terrible jolt on his road, "Uher AIles." He has come to the end of the road and has found it to be "A blind sap," and now he's on his way back. He does't know how rough his road will be back---"not half." Well, this has developed, I must confess, into a sort of Wilsonic note, and I must stop soon. I had a few minutes to spare, though, Mrs. Leach, so I hope you will pardon the wanderings of my letter. I saw Angus several times while in the Somme, but have not seen him lately. He is quite well, though, and working hard. I am in the best of health myself, have been lucky a thousand times, and hope it continues. Well, I would like to be back in the old choir even if my voice is gone, through training and scouting, to a whisper. I often find myself, although quite far from the line, quite unconsciously talking in a whisper, for from force of habit when patroling up close to Fritz' line a fellow doesn't want to break forth into song; it isn't healthy. Well, I wish you all a very Merry Christmas, and all joy and happiness in the New Year. I sincerely hope the New Year will see the end of this business. We are, I am glad to say, fighting for the right, in defence of all that is good and holy, and if it lasts for years we shall fight it out; but the price of peace has already been high, and little is to be gained by anyone, but "What we have we'll hold." Well I will close now, thanking you again for you goodness, and wishing you all the compliments of the season. Sincerely, A. W. MACKINNON. P.S.â€" I guess poor Kenner's death in action has brought the war home to Caledonia more than before. Too bad; I'm sorry for his home folk, but be died well. He was a true soldier to the last. A. W. K. Pte. R. Pettigrew, No. 757396, Bramshott Camp, Dec. 26, 1916. Mr. H. B. Sawle: Dear Sir----Just a few lines, asking you to convey, through your paper, my sincere thanks to the Caledonia Women's Institute for their kind remembrance of me at this festive season. Their token of good wishes were doubly welcome under the present circumstances. Wishing the society all success, and thanking you in advance for this favor, I remain, yours sincerely, R. PETTIGREW. Same Old Place, Dec. 10, 1916, Caledonia Women's Institute: Many thanks for your Christmas parcel, which arrived safety. I had not tasted an apple for a year, so I enjoyed them you can bet. It is nice to think we are remembered at Christmas time, but I know you are all constantly thinking of us. If it was not for your kindness and comforts this life would be almost unbearable. Well, some day, perhaps not far distant, we shall have Mr. Fritzy on the run. Hope it happens soon. Have very little time to write. Thanking you all for your kindness in helping to make my Christmas as bright as possible. Yours sincerely, 451925, SERGT. J. RENWICK, Third Canadian Entrenching Battalion. France, Nov. 12, 1916. Dear Friends: Just a line to let you know that I received the parcel safe, and it was a treat. Two more of the boys and I enjoyed it very much. When they get a parcel they will share it with me. I am pleased to tell you that I am all right. We are having lots of rain and cold weather. I must not tell you where we are or what we are doing, as it is a serious crime, so I will close this letter. With best wishes for a Happy New Year to the ladies of the Caledonia Women's Institute and all old friends of Caledonia. G. CAIN. France, Dec. 2, 1916. Dear Mrs. Lindsay: A few day ago I received a parcel from the ladies of the Caledonia Institute. I wish to thank you and the rest very much, as it was a lovely parcel and everything was in splendid shape. I don't think you people at home really know how much your boxes are appreciated. It's not only on account of the good things in them, but the thought that the people at home remember one. As you know, one can say very little in regard to our work or where we are situated. However, we just work away and hope to see the end some day. Now, I must try and get a bite of dinner, so thank the ladies for me. I'll be much obliged. Yours sincerely, R. D. HUDSPETH. Canadian Corps of Cyclists Battalion, Dec. 4, 1916. Dear Mrs. Lindsay: I am at a loss to know to whom I should address my letter; but as a young lady friend of mine in Caledonia mentioned you in one of her letters, asking for my address, I thought that in all probability you would be the most likely person to convey my humble thanks to the ladies of the Caledonia Institute for their kind thoughts and appreciable gift, which I received tonight as a very pleasant and agreeable surprise. No doubt you will be somewhat surprised, also, to receive these thanks at such an early date; but I will point out the fact to you that we have not always the opportunity to write at all; but, as your gift arrived in one of my leisure hours, my time could not be better employed than in writing this. It is not likely that you are acquainted with the hardships of trench warfare, and nothing would please me better than to give you a detailed description of this life, which I am sure would be a subject for discussion in your meetings, but you are, no doubt, aware of the fact that there are rules and restrictions which forbid me to do this. I do not think that I will exceed beyond the censor's ideas of information, when I say that in a dug out with only a few rats for company and an occassional rat-tat-tat of a machine gun to break the silence, and my thoughts centered on dear ones that are left back home, and wondering (and no doubt they are also) when shall see each other again. Now, to turn once again to the good work of the institution, I can assure you that if your aim was to cheer up a soldier from your community you have succeeded splendidly, and I can wish you and the ladies of the institution nothing better (in my estimation) than that all the work that you undertake may be as successful as this gift campaign, and I can answer you that your work will be done thoroughly and always appreciated. Again, wishing you and yours the very best of health and good wishes for the yuletide, I remain, yours sincerely, GEORGE SATTER.