The last Sunday in August, we were present at the Inauguration of one of the fresh additions to this immense "everything" which constitutes the Ocean Hospital. It was the Inauguration of the Chapel. At the limit of the downs, this simple church, which has sprung out of the earth, as though by magic, faces the sea and the country. It is a building on primitive architectural lines, surmounted by a little sturdy spire. Nothing more was necessary. It was certainly a most impressive scene when the little procession of believers wended their way to the service, called there by the bell of the Convent of the "Pauvres Claires" of Nieuport. The three naves were soon full. In the choir, Her Majesty the Queen, who had graciously deigned to be present at the ceremony, had taken her place, and behind her were a crowd of wounded soldiers. The altar reflected the light of all the burning tapers, the incense was smoking in the silver vessels, and, over yonder, between the nave and the choir, the organs were singing of joy and happiness. The good saints and the little chubby angels could neither believe their eyes nor their ears. The poor, who had expected to die in the general earthquake when their churches were bombarded and the infernal battle was raging around them, arrived here now from everywhere; from Nieuport--the Dead; from Caeskerke--the Sorrowful; from Pervyse--the Devastated; and from Ramscapelle--the Solitary. One evening, they had all met in a room. A lamp was burning in front of a tabernacle, there was a kneeling bench for communion, a confessional-box, a pulpit, and some saints, too, as astonished as they were themselves. Were they really not dreaming now? Was their nightmare over? This was a church, a real church like _their own_! It was full of people, too, and the psalms were being chanted by the choristers. All this seemed more beautiful than the finest dream, and at this festival they forgot all their past anguish and the nightmares they had lived through. And in the midst of the general devotion, the Reverend Father Henusse, chaplain to the 84th Battery, pronounced the following eloquent words: "Madame,