I went to mass the other Sunday: it was served the same as in the States. The Church is very old: the place for the altar is wider than the pew space. The main altar is set back from the others and it only is railed off. In the space I mentioned as being wider than the pew section are two rows of pews, one on each side of the main aisle. They run at right angles to the altar and, I take it, are reserved for the élite of the town, as they are finely made and comfortable, not to mention their isolation. The regular pews are very uncomfortable, being straight-backed, while the board to kneel on is very narrow. The pews are placed close together which cramps one considerably. The organ is placed almost among the rafters. The acoustic properties of the building are poor. The structure is of stone, the walls being very thick. Immense stone columns, placed at short intervals, support the roof. On the first column on the left hand side of the aisle, about twelve feet from the floor, a small pulpit is built and is reached by a circular staircase. The floor is of marble. Instead of tableaux, cheap pictures show the Stations of the Cross. Lamps and candles furnish the light: no provision is made for heat. The windows are of stained glass and rather artistic. There was only a scattering of people, mostly women in mourning. A few soldiers attended.

As I have said this is the Champagne country; vineyards exist in abundance and at the present time they need attention; the ground around each vine must be loosened. Most of the men are in the army, so nearly every one in town turns out to work. Old men, old women, middle-aged women, young women, boys and girls and even children labor in the yards. I have seen grey-haired women bent almost double over the short three-foot hoe in use here. Everybody works, they work hard and with a will. From their appearance, the grapes will not suffer from lack of attention.

A few nights ago just as I was on the point of going to sleep a soldier came rushing through our quarters yelling “Fire.” In two shakes of a lamb’s tail we were all downstairs, formed in ranks and on double time in the direction of the fire, and as it was only a short distance off, we were soon there. As is the local custom, the house was set back and shut off from the road by an eighteen-inch brick and stone wall covered with cement. Next to, and in fact part of the house was the hay shed; some cavalry men were quartered here.

When we came into the courtyard the shed and nearest half of the top or second floor of the house were in flames. Already some of the furniture had been carried out from the ground floor rooms, and taking the hint, we rushed through the doorway to bring out more. It was one of the best houses in town and well furnished. By this time nearly everybody in town had arrived, but there was no sign of any fire fighting apparatus, and the fire was quickly destroying the house. Soon there were many triumphant cries, and with much gusto the Fire Department of Bouzy burst upon the scene, and was greeted by the crowd with many acclamations of joy. The Fire Department was carried by eager hands, and seeing a couple of vacant inches, I took hold. Everybody was yelling and giving orders, so the Department was carried all over the yard and frequently came near being deposited on the ground, when some one with an extra loud voice would tell of a more advantageous spot, so there the Department would go. This procedure was kept up for about five minutes before the machine was placed.

It consisted of a heavy iron tank four feet long, three feet wide and two feet high with two cylinders and a long two-handled bar for the man-power. Soon the hose was arranged and men formed for a bucket-brigade. Think of it: a machine to which the water must be brought and then pumped through the hose to the blaze. It was a long time before the water arrived and we frequently had to suspend for lack of water. Smith mounted to the roof of the building and Larney was conspicuous on an adjoining roof. Just as Smith reached the roof a stream from a nearby house started to play, but lacked force enough to reach the flames; it landed directly on Smith and continued playing on him. In a short time he was drenched and the spray also wet Larney through.

Well, to make a long story short, the building was completely destroyed, but no damage was done to any nearby structure. Smith slept in his wet clothes and the next morning when he unrolled from his blanket a cloud of steam arose. He surely must have had an enjoyable evening trying to sleep.

The helmets worn by the firemen were of brass and resembled the German helmet, only lacking the spike. They were highly polished and quite showy.

IV
IN THE FIRST LINE TRENCHES

Somewhere in France (Bouzy),