Invincible Liége! People are still firm in their faith, encouraged by the peace of the morning. The day was quiet until 6.00 _P. M._, when furious shooting into the valley began. We saw the great shells bursting in the air and between the clouds of smoke we could distinguish an old monastery on the other side of the valley which was being shot to pieces by the enemy's field-cannon. The structure changed shape half a dozen times before our eyes and the setting sun concentrated, as if purposely, all its rays on the windows which made them blaze forth through all that fury like the veritable Hand of God, writing in fire. It seemed almost like a premonition. Pressure from those tremendous guns could remodel mountains, and Nature herself, sometimes, cannot hold out against the fiendish ingenuity of man. And the city, itself! Can it hold out? In the garden, very near the foot of the mountain, is the old farmhouse, in one corner of which is a little chapel whose door stands open the year round. It is of particular interest to the peasants, being the last relic of a certain superstitious legend of the countryside. The people come from miles around, crossing the fields by a little path which they themselves have beaten down, to kneel before this tiny altar; and on the last Sunday in May, the annual fête, the priests, leading a religious procession which starts from the church, say Mass there. This year, May 31st, 1914, the head gardener, who is the indisputable authority on floral subjects in the village, borrowed everything from the conservatory and gardens that he could lay his hands on in the way of decoration. He arranged the semi-circle in front of the little chapel very artistically with branches of leaves, palms and hundreds of pansies which the day before had been uprooted from the terraces of the château to make room for the red, summer geraniums.