What was the idea of the ancient proprietor in building this chapel at his gate? for most of the wayside sanctuaries hereabout are dedicated to our Saviour. It was a large farm-house, evidently the property of some wealthy farmer. It must have survived the Franco-German War of 1870; but it has not survived this, for the huge grange is a mass of ruins. Perhaps the shrine is a recognition of deliverance during the first war. Although it stands amid ruin to-day, the chapel is prophetic of a deliverance which is in process of being worked out. Near it there is a battery of field-guns, and in rear of it a battery of 'heavies'; in fact, all around there are guns, guns, and more guns! They were hurling an avalanche of shells into the Hun lines when I passed on a Sunday afternoon to conduct a service at a post in the second line. What a horror of sound! The Huns began to reply, and they sent nothing over but high explosives. 'Crump, crump, crump,' went the shells as they exploded, raising clouds of dust and smoke, but fortunately missing all our batteries. To be comparatively safe it was necessary for me to go by a way which avoided all the targets the German gunners were aiming at. As though despairing of getting our guns the Germans began to belabour our trenches with minenwerfers, and soon the crash of mortars began to mingle with the noise of our howitzers, field-guns, and machine-guns. Thank God it did not last long. In ten minutes' intense bombardment in a large sector like this hundreds of projectiles are launched in the air. But we had the last word in this duel, and when it died down we were not done. A flight of our aeroplanes droned overhead. They were going over for the usual afternoon 'strafe.' There is some danger to pedestrians from fragments of anti-aeroplane shells, for the Germans ceaselessly bombard our 'planes, usually without any luck. They go right over the German lines, probably carrying bombs for some depot or ammunition dump. When they have passed, a different, a solitary aeroplane appears. The 'flight' was of battle-planes. This one is for spotting purposes, and a single battery begins to fire in its direction. The intense bombardment therefore gives place to a deliberate slow firing of shell after shell in obedience to the observer above. They are trying to get some special object, and 'registering' their shots for future guidance. At night-time this little sanctuary of Our Lady of Deliverance becomes the centre of a scene which might be taken from some drama of the underworld. Huge ammunition motor-lorries dash past with a reverberation which makes the ruined walls tremble. They are delivering stores of shell (largely made by the women of England) for the daily consumption of the guns. Our Lady of Deliverance has many disciples among both English and French women in these days; daughters of deliverance we might call them.