Your affecshunate godfather,
James Prendergast Jackson Jr.

P.S.  If ever we go to war, and I inlist and go to France I mite take you back to New York on firlow.

16 Dec. 1916.  Dear Benefactor,

I thank you with the bottom of my heart for your kindness unto me.  Maman and me have been so content to receive your letter and your donation generous!  Your succour will sweeten the times difficult that we are traversing; and the silver[1] you send will permit me to eat of the meat and be forceful to aid maman she has so much of labor and of pain!  I will tell you, dear benefactor, that I am not the most robust But I take the oil of liver of cod-fish all the days for make myself high and good-carrying.[2] Yes, dear benefactor, I will forget never what you do, and all the nights I make a prayer for you be happy in the life.

I cannot to read your letter very well alone, because I know not sufficient the English.  But I have one aunt, she is dead, she know very well the English, and she teach me of it and my great sister also; she is a dactylographer,[3] and she know the English very perfect, and she me aids so I do mistakes not at all.  And I serve me of the dictionary also.  Maman say your letters will make complete my education.  But some words I comprehend not.  What is, for example, the kid?  I search and I see only it is the offspring of a goat.  I am sure in the book is the mistake, for my dear godfather will not make the pain to me and my Maman in calling me the offspring of a goat.

Dear godfather, I am also surprise that you be so much heavy.  I have 11 years like you, and I am only 39 kg heavy.  But in Amerique, Maman tell me, all is big, big!  It is droll, so big little boys.  Sometimes I ask myself if you are veritably a little boy.  Perhaps it is to make laugh you tell me you are one infant.  Perhaps you are the old gentleman.

Tell me dear godfather, what is it the Sunday-school?  In Paris we go not to school the Sunday.  We rise more lately, and we dress more pretty than the days of week, and for breakfast we eat the cacao in lieu of soup of potato left of last night.  And we go to the grand mass with Maman.  Little brother Jean is one infant of choir at the church.  He do nothing but balance and smoke the incense, and be pretty like one angel; because his hairs are like the gold, and his eyes like the heaven when the sun make shine.  All at the beginning he was not content because the smoking make him to sneeze, and he did cry, and he wanted not to indorse[4] the dress white, with lace; he say he resemble to a girl; and he believe all the world in the church was regarding him.  But now he is habituated, and he become more sage.  It is very necessary he become sage, because he is so devil.  Yesterday, for example, Mr. le Cure give him a pretty card postal with the image of angels and tell him he must apply to resemble to them; and Jean responded, “no I want not to be the angel and have wings like one hen!” Mr. le Cure say it is Satan that commands the wicked words like that, and when he go to fall in temptation Jean must say, “Vade retro Satanas,” and that make Satan go behind.  And Jean say, “yes but then Satan go at my back and push hard, so I fall!” It is very sad little Jean be so much bad.