_Friday, 21st May_, 3 A.M.--Last night the rush began to abate; no one died, and only one came in--a general smash-up; he died to-night, and a very dear boy died to-day. I've lost count now of how many have died,--I think about twenty-four. The Guards' Brigade here went by to-night from the trenches to rest, singing "Here we are again," and the song about "The girls declare I am a funny man!" 11 A.M.--The little Canadian Sister has just been recalled, I'm sorry to say, but probably we shall get another one. Five Canadian officers came in last night. The guns are making the dickens of a noise, very loud and sudden. Yesterday they shelled the town again, and two more _soldats anglais_ were wounded. _Saturday, May 22nd_, 6.30 A.M.--Things have been happening at a great pace since the above, and we are now in our camp-beds in an empty attic at the top of an old chateau about three miles back, which is No.-- C.H., at ----. Just as I was thinking of getting up yesterday evening they began putting shells over into the town, and soon they were raining in three at a time. My little room here is a sort of lean-to over the kitchen with no room above it; so I cleared out to dress in one of the others, and didn't stop to wash. Gabrielle came running up to fetch me downstairs. At the hospital, which was only about 200 yards down the road, the wounded officers were thinking it was about time Capt. ---- moved his Field Ambulance. One boy by the window had got some _debris_ in his eye from the nearest shell, which burst in my blackbird's garden, or rather on the doorstep opposite. (That was the one that got me out of bed rather rapidly.) The orders soon came to evacuate all the patients. At the French Hospital, about six minutes away, three wounded had been hit in a M.A. coming in, and the Officers' Mess had one (none of them were in), and they were dropping all round it. Then the order came from the D.D.M.S. to the A.D.M.S. to evacuate the whole of the --th, --th, and --th Field Ambulances, and within about two hours this was done. Everybody got the patients ready, fixed up their dressings and splints, gave them all morphia, and got them on to their stretchers. The evacuation was jolly well done; their servants appeared by magic, each with every spot of kit and belongings his officer came in with (they are in _all_ cases checked by the Sergeant on admission, no matter what the rush is), and the place was empty in an hour. The din of our guns, which were bombarding heavily, and the German guns, which are bombarding us at a great pace, and the whistle and bang of the shells that came over while this was going on, was a din to remember.