About Me

Born August 4, 1894 in Auburn, New York to William and Alice Beardsley Woodruff Hills. Younger brother Carroll Beardsley Hills and younger sister Mary Day Hills. Educated at St. Paul's School, Concord, New Hampshire and Princeton University, class of 1917

Thursday, June 12, 2008

Letter dated January 21, 1918

Dear Mother –

I am still at school and quite enjoying life due chiefly to a wonderful break in the weather. For over a week now it has been warm and the last few days without any snow you would certainly say spring had come. The climate here has the advantage of being if nothing else even. It was cold for exactly one month with but one break of one day. Never above freezing and never horribly cold but just even winter.

Your two Xmas letters came Saturday and I can’t tell you how much I really liked them, especially yours. The description of everything you did was great and I could almost think for the minute I was back again home. Christmas here as I told you was the worst day I ever expect to spend in my life and to know that things went on home as usual and that some where things weren’t all upset was quite a relief. The letter from everybody else at home too that was at the party was fine and very good of them to think of me. I shall certainly answer them all sometime or rather if not all a few at any rate.

My only regret is that up to the present none of the Christmas packages have arrived and I am beginning to give up hope of ever seeing any of them. Also a new uniform and an overcoat which I bought and paid for in Paris have become lost somewhere and my wardrobe and appearance are suffering accordingly. Someday perhaps if I wait long enough everything will turn up. I have become quite a fatalist in that line. If you wait long enough everything turns out all right. If you have a bad day the next one or someday soon will be a good one again and things will go the way they ought to. The wait, however, is often not only aggravating but uncomfortable.

I think I told you that the orders had arrived giving everyone seven days leave every four months. When my turn comes I shall certainly go to Cannes tho perhaps Cousin Josephine may then see it another way if she has a house full of crocked up Americans. There isn’t a great deal more to tell you just now but I will write you again quickly. With love, Paul

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