There is a poor little woman here who comes from Dinant, that was destroyed by the Germans in the early part of the war. She has lost all trace of her father and mother; her husband and brother have both been killed and their property utterly destroyed. Mr. B——, the pastor of the Protestant Church, has not been able to find his mother, who disappeared last August. Every day we hear of something new.
The papers are full of accounts of the gallant fighting of the Canadians, but the losses have been very heavy.
May 9, 1915.
It is just a year to-day since I sailed from New York, starting on our trip with Mrs. E——. Little did we think of the horrors that have happened since.
Seven more men went off last night, so we have only twenty left. I have ten on my floor, but only four in bed; the others are able to be out all day. Charrel, one of my patients who just left, was one of six brothers, all of whom went off the first days of the war; three have been killed, the other three wounded.
I am going to Lyons on Thursday for a few days to visit some of the hospitals.
The French papers are full of the heroism of the Canadian troops; they have done wonderful work at Ypres, but at what a terrible cost.
I feel so proud every time I see the dressing gowns the DeMonts Chapter sent me—they are the nicest we have.
May 18, 1915.
I left here Thursday at noon with Madam B—— who went to Paris. Before I left I telegraphed to Madam M——, the wife of the soldier who was here such a long time, asking her to get me a room, but when I arrived I found the whole family at the station to meet me and they insisted on my going home to stay with them. They are very simple people, but so kind and hospitable. I think it is quite an event having a stranger stay with them. We ate in the kitchen, and the whole family seemed to sleep in a cupboard opening off of it.