At the station to-day I saw a mad man, who fought and struggled.  I thought madmen raved.  This one fought silently, like a man one sees in a dream.  Another soldier shook all over like an old man.  Many were blind.

“On the whole,” someone said to me in England, “I suppose you are having a good time.”

There is a snowstorm to-day, and it is bitterly cold.  It is very odd how many small “complaints” seem to attack one.  I can’t remember the day out here when I felt well all over.

Last night some Belgians came in to dinner.  It was like old times trying to get things nice.  I had some flowers and a tablecloth.  I believe in making a contrast with the discomfort I see out here.  We forced open a piano, and had some perfect music.

21 March.—­The weather is brighter to-day; the sound of firing is more distant; it is possible to think of other things besides the war.

Mrs. ——­ came to the station this morning.  I think she has the most untidy mind I have ever met with.

With all our faults, I often wish that there were more Macnaughtans in the world.  Their simple and plain intelligence gives one something to work upon.  Mrs. ——­ came and told me to-day that last night “they laughed till they cried” over her attempt at making a pudding.  I should have cried, only, over a woman of fifty who wasn’t able to make a pudding.  She and ——­ are twin nebulae who think themselves constellations.

* * * * *

To Miss Mary King.

CARE OF FIELD POST OFFICE, DUNKIRK,
22 March.

DEAR MARY,

My plans, like those of everybody else, are undecided because of the war.  If it is going to stop in May I should like to stay till the end, but if it is likely to go on for a long time, I shall come home.  I don’t think hot soup (which is my business) can be wanted much longer, as the warm weather will be coming.

I have been asked to take over full charge of a hospital here.  It is a great compliment, but I have almost decided to refuse.  I have other duties, and I have some important writing to do, as I am busy with a book on the war.  I begin work as early as ever, and then go to my kitchen.

[Page Heading:  LONGING FOR HOME]

When I do come home I want to be in my own house, and I am longing to be back.  Many of my friends go backwards and forwards to England all the time, but when I return, I should like to stay.

I am in wonderfully comfortable rooms at present, and the landlady is most kind and attentive.  She gives me a morning cup of tea, and the care and comfort are making me much better.  I get some soup before I go off to my station, and last night I was really a fine lady.  When I came in tired, the landlady, who is a Belgian, took off my boots for me!

When I come home I think I’ll lie in bed all day, and poor old Mary will get quite thin again nursing me.  The things you will have to do for me, and all the pretty things I shall see and have, are a great pleasure to think about!