Old women are the most courageous creatures on this earth.  When everyone else has fled from a place you can see them sitting by their cottage doors or hoeing turnips in the line of fire.

It was touching to see a little family of terrified children sheltering with their mother in a roadside Calvary when the shells were coming over.  The poor young mother was holding up her baby to Christ on His cross.

[Page Heading:  THE CRUCIFIX UNDAMAGED]

There is a matter which seems almost more than a coincidence, and one which has been too often remarked to be ignored, and that is, that in the midst of ruins which are almost totally destroyed the figure of Christ in some niche often remains untouched.  I have seen it myself, and many writers have commented on the fact.  Sometimes it is only a crucifix on some humble wall, or it may be a shrine in a church.  The solitary figure remains and stands—­often with arms raised to bless.  At Neuve Chapelle one learns that, although the havoc is like that wrought by an earthquake, and the very dead have been uprooted there, a crucifix stands at the cross-roads at the north end of the village, and the pitiful Christ still stretches out His hands.  At His feet lie the dead bodies of young soldiers.  At Nieuport I noticed a shrine over a doorway in the church standing peacefully among the ruins, and at Pervyse also one remained, until the tower reeled and fell with an explosion from beneath, which was deliberately ordered to prevent accidents from falling masonry.

I had to go to Dunkirk this afternoon and while I was there I heard that the Lusitania had been torpedoed and sunk with 1,600 souls on board her.  What change will this make in the situation?  Is America any use to us except in the matter of supplies, and are we not getting these through as it is?  A nation like that ought to have an army or a navy.

Dunkirk was nearly deserted owing to the bombardment, and it was difficult to find a shop open to buy vegetables for my soup-kitchen.  Still, I enjoyed my afternoon.  There was a chance that shelling might begin again at any time, and a bitter wind blew up clouds of prickly dust and sand; but it was a great relief to be out in the open and away from smells, and to have one’s view no longer bounded by a line of rails.  God help us!  What a year this has been!  It tires me even to think of being happy again, cheerfulness has become such an effort.

10 May.—­I went to see my Scottish gunner at the hospital to-day.  He said, “I can’t forget that night,” and burst out crying.  “That night” he had been wounded in seven places, and then had to crawl to a “dug-out” by himself for shelter.

Strong healthy men lie inert in these hospitals.  Many of them have face and head wounds.  I saw one splendid young fellow, with a beautiful face, and straight clear eyes of a sort of forget-me-not blue.  He won’t be able to speak again, as his jaw is shot away.  The man next him was being fed through the nose.