We are so busy here that we scarcely know where to turn. It is just a procession of wounded coming and going all the time, for we have to send them off as quickly as possible in order to make room for the new arrivals. Thirty-eight went off last Tuesday and fifteen on Friday, but the beds are filled up again. The last ones we have been getting are so badly wounded that I wonder who can be moved on Tuesday. We have had wild wind and rain for the last week, but to-day is cold and clear and for the first time in weeks it is quiet--the cannonading has been incessant. Two English aviators were brought in yesterday whose machine fell quite near here; fortunately they are not very badly hurt. The box from the high school girls came to-day, and it was like having Christmas all over again,--such a nice lot of things there were. I shall have a fine time distributing them. Here comes the ambulance. One poor man died in the receiving ward and the other two went to the operating room at once. They both have symptoms of gas gangrene, and I am afraid one will lose an arm and the other a leg. In spite of the cold and wet we keep extraordinarily well. Four new nurses have come, much to our relief, for the work was getting rather beyond us. Two of them are Canadians from Toronto. They know ever so many people I know. They sailed from St. John at Christmas time and saw so many St. John friends of mine--they said everyone was so good to them. We do not get a minute during the night and some days have been up to lunch time. February 22, 1916. There have been two big attacks and we have had our hands full. Since Sunday the cannonading has gone on without ceasing. It seems to be all round us. At night we can see the flashes of the guns quite distinctly, in fact the sky is lit up most of the time. It is like the reflection of a great fire--it would be very beautiful if one could get away from the horror of what it all means. The aeroplanes were almost as thick as the motors--one came down in a field near the hospital yesterday--the wings were riddled with bullets, but fortunately the aviator was not hurt. We often see taubes, and Zeppelins have gone over us several times, though I could not recognize them, but the noise was unmistakeable. The wounded are nearly all brought in at night so we have our hearts and hands full. The other night twenty-three came in at once so we had to call up the day people to help us; seventeen were operated upon and all are getting well but one. From the twenty-third July, 1915, until the first January, 1916, seven hundred and fifty patients have been cared for here and sixty-six have died. I have had over one hundred wounded come in at night this last month, and as they all come directly from the trenches you can imagine what it means. Such a fine box came from Mrs. S---- and F---- containing bandages, socks, etc., all most welcome.