Letter From France "Villa Livo," France. My Dear Family: I came back from leave and felt quite glad to get back to my ward. We had a perfectly smooth crossing and a lovely day, but I managed to get a nasty little cold and another attack of bronchitis, and our M. D. nabbed me and sent me right off duty again, and said: "Take it in time this time and not let it get so bad as last winter." So I am still laying up, but it is so much better. I expect to be back on duty again in a few days, and feel as fit as a fiddle after these few days in bed. Just to think it is nearly Xmas. The days pass so much, one like another, there is nothing to mark the dates. It is astonishing how one gets accustomed to conditions. Every one has settled down in England to war conditions as if there never had been anything else, or never would be anything else, and take it all as a matter of course. Some parcels from the club have arrived for my ward, but I did not open them yet. The boxes were so much appreciated last year I know they will be most acceptable this year. We have made no definite plans yet for the day, but I expect it will be much the same as last year. And as last year, I expect we shall be much too busy to do much extra. It helps to make it more like Xmas for the men, and they are all homesick and feel so pleased at being remembered. I have decorations left from last yearâ€"those tissue paper thingsâ€"not artistic, but bright and gay. It's a little like homesickness for us all, but we won't have time thinking of it. I always think it takes the kiddies to make it a happy season, as they do enjoy it so much it makes it a joy to be with them. Last year when I was over here at the "Nurses Sick Home" I had a room the family had used. This year I'm in what was one of the guest's rooms, and the framed rules hung up are too funny. I must copy themâ€"or better, translate them for youâ€"as they are printed in French. The count that owns this place must be a "wag," as his ideas of entertaining guests are so funny. He is a Servian count and is fighting for his poor country, but his American wife saw to the plumbing, I am sure, as the place is steam heated and plenty of hot water and modern bath rooms. It is a treat to find a warm and thoroughly dried out house in this country, and a comfort to us to have this to come to when not well, as in our huts the bed clothes are never dry from September to June. These are the rules I mentioned: 1â€"We wish to consecrate this first article to wishing you happiness, and we say to you, "You are at home;" but, recollect, that this is a figure of speech. 2â€"It is necessary to state to you that your room having been chosen with discernment, it is useless to think of wishing to change it. 3â€"You will easily find at the head of the bed a little plate with a cord; this is the bell. On this subject we think it becomes you to recall the old French saying: "One is never so well served as by oneself." 4â€"If you have the habit of going to bed early do not change your habits; but the rooms opening off the hall, try not to trouble by your sleep the conversation of those who sleep next. 5â€"In any case the guests cannot use the baths to wash their bicycles in. 6â€"The key of the cellar is at the disposition of the guests. We speak of the coal cellars. 7â€"At the table, whatever be your appetite, dream that you are never the last to be served. 8â€"Those who come from Saturday to Monday are prayed not to prolong their stop beyond Wednesday. 9â€"Alas! All joys are limited. When the frightful hour of departure has sounded for you, may your decision be brusque. Ask not to consult a time table; do not try to make us understand you must go; linger not; only say "I go," and you will see we will also be courageous. We will tell you briefly the time of the train, and when your choice is made we will speak of it no more. We wish your departure to be a memory to usâ€"a memory that you have come! Quite original that count. I'll be back in my ward in a day or so and will write again. You may got an "Admitted to Hospital" notice, but will know I'm back on duty by that time. The red tape has to be measured out if there is any sense to it or not. Your loving sister, BERTHA SMITH.