quickly--they probably did not even see us. The mason’s little children took turn by turn to have a ride on the hand-cart, seated on the top of all the bundles, while the others hung out of the poor mother’s arms, who cheered them on, and told them wonderful tales in Flemish. One little boy was squeezing an almost imperceptible black puppy, which he would not let go for all the world. While the young gentleman was having his turn for a ride there was a sudden halt on the way. The wee doggie had managed to wriggle out of his master’s tight embrace and, making good use of his long-sighed-for liberty, had fallen out of the cart. Luckily, no bones were broken, owing to the soft carpet of mud into which he sank. Indeed, the poor cart was obliged to stop more than once, either to make way for two regiments who were marching in different directions, or for two or three motor-cars passing all at once, and, often enough, getting literally ‘stuck in the mud,’ or to give a rest to Edmund and the workman, who had a hard time of it. It was now getting dark, and a thick mist was rising. The sound of the firing was getting more and more feeble as we left Ypres farther and farther behind. From time to time, a dead horse, stretched out in the ditch or in a field close by, would make us turn away from the mournful sight. We walked and walked--would we never arrive at our destination? It became darker at every moment--we were obliged to keep well together, for fear of being left behind. The trees which lined the road loomed out as though they had been some unearthly spectres, with their leafless branches like gaunt arms uplifted towards the sky to call down vengeance on the earth; while, magnified through the thick mist, the moon tinged with red seemed to reflect the bloodshed and carnage of the battle-field.