We looked up through the windows of the G.P.O. and saw the safe that was in H.'s room still in the wall, and the door does not appear to have been opened or the safe touched, but the whole place has been such an inferno one would think the door must have been red-hot. Among all the _débris_ the fire was still smouldering, and we could not penetrate inside. I picked up a great lump of molten metal, a fantastic shape with bits of glass embedded in it. It is bright like silver, but they tell me it is lead. It is quite curious. Do you realise, G., that out of all H.'s library he now does not possess a single book, except one volume of his Dante, and I not even a silver teaspoon!! Everything belonging to F. has gone; as he gave his life in the war, so an act of war has robbed us of everything belonging to him--our most precious possession. It has almost broken H. up; but he has no time to think, which is perhaps a good thing. The old Morland and Smith mezzotints have also gone--things we can never replace. Behind the G.P.O. was the Coliseum Theatre, now only a shell; and on the other side of the street was the office of the _Freeman's Journal_, with all the printing machinery lying among the _débris_, all twisted and distorted; but, worst of all, behind that was a great riding school, where all the horses were burnt to death. If at all possible you ought to come over for Whitsuntide. You will see such a sight as you will never see in your life unless you go to Belgium. When we came here H. was scandalised at the condition of the G.P.O. The whole frontage was given up to sorting offices, and the public office was in a side street, a miserable, dirty little place, that would have been a disgrace to a small country town. H. found that plans had been drawn up and passed for the complete reconstruction of the interior, building in a portion of the courtyard an office for sorting purposes, leaving the frontage for the public office with entrance under the great portico. So H. _hustled_, and the work was completed and opened to the public six weeks ago. It was really beautiful. The roof was a large glass dome, with elaborate plaster work, beautiful white pillars, mosaic floor, counters all of red teak wood, and bright brass fittings everywhere--a public building of which any great city might be proud; and in six weeks all that is left is a smoking heap of ashes! N. had an extraordinary find inside one of the rooms. About six yards from the main wall he found, covered with ashes and a beam lying across it, a motor cycle. It was lying on its side. He got it out and found it perfect, tyres uninjured and petrol in the tank, and he rode it to the hotel, and has now taken it to the Castle to hand over to the police. _May 2nd, 10 a.m._