January 1, 1916. It is hard to believe that we are beginning another year. If only it will bring a lasting peace! The boxes have not turned up yet, but they doubtless will one of these days, and we will be all the more glad to see them because we have used up everything else. I expected to go on night duty immediately after Christmas, but we had such sick people in my ward they did not want to make a change just then. It is blowing a gale again to-night, and raining in torrents; it seems as if it would never stop raining. The roof of one of the wards was loosened the other night the wind was so strong, so the patients had to be all moved out while it was being mended. Our barracks had to be propped up also, all one side was loose and the rain came in in sheets. I frequently go to bed with an umbrella. January 16, 1916. We have had orders to evacuate all the men who are able to travel, so we got rid of a great many--eighteen went on Tuesday, twenty on Friday and nineteen more are to go next Tuesday. The roof nearly blew off my ward last night, so my patients had to be moved into the next ward till it is mended. I am going to take advantage of it and have a thorough house cleaning. Le Roux, the boy who has been here so long and who has been so terribly ill, died on Tuesday. I had great hopes of him up till the last day. Half an hour after he died the General came to decorate him. I hope they will send the medals to his people, it seems hard that they should have been just too late to give them to him. The next day I went to his funeral--the first soldier's funeral I have seen. I was impressed with the dignity and simplicity of it. The plain deal coffin was covered with a black pall, which had a white cross at the head, the French flag covered the foot and a bunch of purple violets, tied with red, white and blue ribbon, lay between. It was carried in one of the covered military carts. At three o'clock the little procession started for the cemetery. First came the priest in soldier's uniform, carrying a small wooden cross, on which was written Le Roux's name and the name of his regiment. One of this kind is always put at the head of each grave. Then came three soldiers with guns on their shoulders, then the car bearing the coffin, and on each side three soldiers with arms reversed; directly behind were two infirmiers and three soldiers with guns on their shoulders, we two nurses in our uniforms, then two officers and some more soldiers. As we went down the road to the little church in R---- we passed long lines of soldiers going somewhere, and everyone saluted. A few stray people followed us into the church and afterwards to the graveyard, where we left Le Roux with his comrades who had gone before. I had not been there since All Saints Day and it was sad to see how many more graves had been added to the line.