‘By this time we had made our way through the crowd. The fugitives were continually passing, leaving homes and all behind. At length we arrived at the residence of the staff officers. We explained our case to one of them, who received us very courteously, and who told us the best thing to do would be to address ourselves to General Sir Douglas Haig. An orderly informed him that Sir Douglas had left for Brielen. The officer advised us to go there. It was already 8.30, and we had still a good hour’s walk before us. The road resembled that to Poperinghe. One must have seen the continual passage of troops, motor-cars, horses, fugitives, in the narrow lanes, the roads inches thick with mud, to have a true idea of it. Here and there a house struck by a shell, or bespattered with mud almost to the roof, gave an indescribable air of sadness to the surroundings; while a bouquet of flowers, or an odd _bibelot_ discarded in a shop-window, remained as a last souvenir of the joys and prosperity of our brave little Belgium. Brielen now came in sight. We stopped before the Calvary, erected at the entrance to the cemetery, and then paid a visit to the church. On coming out, we met the Curé of the village, who interested himself in our trials and sorrows. We then asked the way to the Headquarters, where we found it was impossible to see Sir Douglas. His aide-de-camp gave us some rather vague information, but kindly offered to get us seats in a motor-car that was leaving for Poperinghe. It did not start, however, till midday, and even then I could not go without telling the community at Ypres. We set out on our way back to Ypres. Just outside the village a poor woman, all in tears, stopped us, showing us a big cavity which a shell had just made in the ground by her farm. “I should have been killed,” she exclaimed, “except for the brave English soldiers, who, seeing the shell coming in my direction, had just the time to take me up and push me into the farm, but my cow is gone! Our little farm was all our fortune!” and she wiped away the tears with a corner of her apron. Poor dear! How many are there still more unfortunate than she! As we approached the town, the whistling shriek of the shells became more distinct; the Germans were bombarding Ypres as hard as they could. We found ourselves almost alone in the streets. Here and there a few soldiers remained in the doorways of the houses. A shell flew straight over us! What a protection of Divine Providence! A few steps off a building was struck, and we just escaped getting a shower of bricks and glass on top of us. “Come to the other side!” Dame Patrick called out. We crossed over, murmuring aspirations all the time. A little farther on another shell burst, and the house we had just passed fell a heap of shapeless ruins. We hastened our steps to get out of the street, which seemed to be the chief point of attack. We then breathed more freely, till--arrived at the Grand’