November 15, 1915.
I did not get any further with my letter for the kitty insisted upon playing with the candle and I was afraid we would have a fire, and since then I have been so busy I have not had a minute. We have had three glorious days and have appreciated them, I can tell you. It has been so cold and wet we have all been water-logged. As for me, I have no word to express my gratitude for all the friends have sent to me. I am quite overwhelmed with all the gifts of money and supplies, but I shall make good use of them and nothing shall be wasted. The wool which Mrs. S—— sent turned up yesterday and I have already given half of it to the women in one of the villages here to knit into socks. There is a dear old English colonel who has a soup kitchen near the firing line, and he is always looking for socks. He does a great deal of good, for he gets the men when they are carried in from the trenches and gives them hot drinks and hot water bottles, and warm socks when he has them. So many of the men have just straw in their boots and are almost frozen. It makes such a difference if they can get warmed up quickly. Poor souls, they have had a hard time since the heavy rains began. They are brought in here just caked with mud from head to foot.
Oh, how glad I was to get the cheque from the “Red Cross” Society and the cheque from Miss G——. I have written to her and would like to write long letters to every one who is so kind, but there is not time.
This Ambulance was established by an American lady who then gave it to the French government. The expenses of running it are paid by them, but I think Mrs. —— pays the nurses and also helps out in the way of extra supplies.
On All Saints Day we went to the little cemetery and decorated the graves of the soldiers who have died in the hospital. There was a special mass and service in the churchyard and the General sent us an invitation. It was pouring rain but I would not have missed it for anything, and I only wish the mothers, wives and sisters could know how beautiful it all was and how tenderly cared for are the last resting-places of their dear ones. It was a picture I shall never forget. The corner of the little churchyard with the forty new graves so close together, each marked with a small wooden cross and heaped high with flowers—the General standing with a group of officers and soldiers all with bared heads—the nurses and one or two of the doctors from the hospital behind them, and then the village people and refugees—hundreds of them, it seemed to me—and the priest giving his lesson—and all the time the rain coming down in torrents and nobody paying any attention to it. There were no dry eyes, and when the General came and shook hands with us afterwards, he could not speak. He is a splendid man, very handsome and a patriot to the backbone,—one of the finest types of Frenchmen.
Do not worry about me for I am very well and so glad to be here in spite of the cold and discomforts. Mrs. S——’s socks and bandages have just come.