If a friend come to call (a rare pleasure nowadays, as all are too busy for social amenities), out come the needles from a bag. The tea hour is interrupted by the click of steel and the counting of stitches. Those who cannot nurse are knitting socks, comforters, chest-protectors, cholera belts, for the nights are cold on the battlefields and the trenches are often full of water. The chilling fogs creep up from the Flemish marshes and the little soldier, the little Piou-Piou, has many long hours to face the cold and darkness. Happy he who has some loving women to knit for him. Strong, vigorous young men one never sees! Only wounded fellows, old men in mourning, and priests ceaselessly on their errands of consolation and pity. In this hour of tribulation, France has turned devoutly and repentantly to religion. The tone of the press has changed. A reverent and humble seeking after Divine help is felt in their supplications. It is not only the women and the ancients who now pray, for over many hospital cots hang a crucifix, and hardened, indifferent men turn in their agony to the ever-present clergy. One dying man told me with great pride that though he had been a great scoffer and unbeliever for many years, "Now that he had confessed and received absolution, he was at peace and willing to go;" so, during the long watches of the night, the old priest, broken as he was with fatigue and sleeplessness, sat beside the poor chap comforting him through the Valley of the Shadow, and when dawn came shortly, closed his eyes, placing the crucifix between the stiffening fingers. When the next day I placed a few flowers about the quiet form I found the rugged features softened, all coarseness had disappeared. He lay at peace with God and man. Who was he? A peasant? A shoe-maker? A factory hand or street cleaner? Perhaps an Apache? I do not know. But he gave all he had—his young life! Surely he has gone to his reward. Dinard, November, 1914. DINARD ACTUALITIES 1914-1915