The beautiful great shade trees which line either side of the roads have all been cut down by the Germans before their retreat. Also the fruit trees. In some places they did not evidently have the time to really cut down the trees, so they just ringed them--cut deep circles in them so that they will die. I noticed that in some of the villages the farmers had evidently tried to save these few remaining ones, and have bandaged them up. Mother probably knows whether there is any hope for them to pull through. The effect of miles and miles of flat roads with simply the stumps of what were once beautiful trees is ghastly, and I think of all the things that the Germans have done, perhaps this is the worst, and the thing which the people of that district will never forgive. They say it takes a tree thirty years to really bear, and the generation now living will never see their orchards bearing again. In some places the Boches cut the trees so that they split when they fell (always across the roads, of course), and now there remain nothing but rows of great white, livid stumps which shine in the sunlight, and look so very ghastly, and make one realize even more that this modern warfare is not a sport. I took several pictures of the trees, but I do not imagine that I got the effect. It is, without doubt, one of the most impressive and oppressive things that one sees; every one who comes back says the same thing. From a military point of view, cutting the shade trees across the roads was not of great value and must have taken a great deal of time, and the apple and other fruit trees seems to be pure desire to destroy. Although one thing I noticed, the young fruit trees were almost always spared, and this fact carries out the German theory that they destroyed only trees which could be used for shelters for guns or men. The trees on the side of the road are without doubt invaluable in the making of screens to hide the road when under fire, but, even with all these facts in one's mind, and trying to be fair, one is infuriated to think that these trees, so many, many years old, should be sacrificed. [Illustration: Luncheon in the Garden at Blérancourt. Left to right: Mr. Irwin, nice French poilu gardener, Mrs. Wethey, Mrs. Hapgood, French officer who escorted us in zone des armées, Mlle. Bazin, Mrs. Williams]