Holes are dug to contain barrels crammed with linen and household goods. In all this extraordinary activity there is very little reason or method. People are half crazed. They even hide furniture and various other objects in the tunnels of the plaster quarries! To abandon one's home seems like deserting a friend. And yet we shall have to consider it, for we may be forced to go. I promised my brother to see that his wife and children were removed to a place of safety in case of danger. We are none of us terrified as yet. Though I have a feeling that the battle will not come as far as this, I am doing all I can to persuade my mother to leave. It is only when I speak of the safety of the children that I succeed in shaking her determination to stay. Meanwhile, the danger does not seem imminent, and we keep putting off our departure till the morrow. At the turning of the road that leads from Demi-Lune to Voisins, on the hilltop overlooking the valley of the Marne, one of the humble dwellings of the hamlet of Huiry was transformed a few months ago into a beautiful cottage. It is two stories high, with a pointed and irregular roof, but most graceful in its whole effect. It is here that an American lady came to live in the early months of this year, hoping to pass in this solitary spot calm and peaceful days. Miss Aldrich, a woman of courageous soul and great heart, is an unspeakable consolation to the little group of women who have remained near her. Filled with the most generous sentiments, giving lavishly of her sympathy and guidance, she charms all who come in contact with her. I go to see Miss Aldrich every day. Her conversation delights me and her qualities of mind and heart fill me with admiration. By her force of character in the tragic hours we are living through she helps us to rise above emotions that at times nearly sweep us off our feet. If a bit of good news reaches her, I am sure to see her come hurrying down the hill towards our house to talk over with us what she has just learned. She is truly French at heart, and knows just what to say to make us feel the same confidence she feels herself. If, before she came, we were beginning to waver, we discover after she has been here that we are once more strong and brave. [Illustration: Miss Mildred Aldrich, the author of "A Hilltop on the Marne" and "On the Edge of the War Zone." Riding in her cart behind her donkey, Ninette, Miss Aldrich is a familiar figure in the country-side round about "La Creste," her "house on the hilltop."] Will you allow me, Miss Aldrich, to pay you the tribute of my admiration for the lofty courage you have shown, and to express to you my gratitude for the comfort you have given my family during these early days of September?