"One would wonder the enemy wastes any more shells on Ypres," said I, "there's nothing left to destroy, is there?"
"Well, there's us, you know!" said the Major, gently, "and then the Boche is rather a revengeful beggar anyhow—you see, he wasted quite a number of army corps trying to take Ypres. And he hasn't got it yet."
"Nor ever will," said I.
The Major smiled and held out his hand.
"It's a pity you hadn't time to see that aqueduct" he sighed. "However, I shall take some flashlight photos of it—if my luck holds. Good-bye." So saying, he raised a hand to his weather-beaten trench-cap and strode back into his dim-lit, dingy office.
The one-time glory of Ypres has vanished in ruin but thereby she has found a glory everlasting. For over the wreck of noble edifice and fallen tower is another glory that shall never fade but rather grow with coming years—an imperishable glory. As pilgrims sought it once to tread its quaint streets and behold its old time beauty, so in days to come other pilgrims will come with reverent feet and with eyes that shall see in these shattered ruins a monument to the deathless valour of that brave host that met death unflinching and unafraid for the sake of a great ideal and the welfare of unborn generations.
And thus in her ruin Ypres has found the Glory Everlasting.