The work is slack for the moment, but a great attack is expected at Nieuport, and they say the Kaiser is behind the lines there.  His presence hasn’t brought luck so far, and I hope it won’t this time.

I went to tea with Miss Close on the barge, and afterwards we picked up M. de la Haye, and went to see an old farm, which filled me with joy.  The buildings here, except at the larger towns, are not interesting or beautiful, but this lovely old house was evidently once a summer palace of the bishops (perhaps of Bruges).  It is called “Beau Garde,” and lies off the Coxide road.  One enters what must once have been a splendid courtyard, but it is now filled indiscriminately with soldiers and pigs.  The chapel still stands, with the Bishops’ Arms on the wall; and there are Spanish windows in the old house, and a curious dog-kennel built into the wall.  Over the gateway some massive beams have been roughly painted in dark blue, and these, covered in ivy, and with the old dim-toned bricks above, make a scheme of colour which is simply enchanting.  Some wind-torn trees and the sand-dunes, piled in miniature mountains, form a delicious background to the old place.

I also went with Etta Close to visit some of the refugees for whom she has done so much, and in the sweet spring sunshine I took a little walk in the fields with M. de la Haye, so altogether it was a real nice day.  There were so few wounded that I was able to have a chat with each of them, and the poor “eclopes” were happy gambling for ha’pence in the garden of the St. Vincent.

In the evening I went up to the Kursaal to dine with Mrs. Wynne.  Our two new warriors who have come out with ambulances have stood this absolutely quiet time for three days, and are now leaving because it is too dangerous!  The shells at Adinkerke never came near them, as they were deputed to drive to Nieuport only. (N.B.—­Mrs. Wynne continues to drive there every night!) Eight men of our corps have funked, no women.

I am going to take a week’s rest before going home, in the hope that I won’t arrive looking as ill as I usually do.  I hardly know how to celebrate my holiday, as it is the first time since I came out here that I haven’t gone to the station except on Sundays.

[Page Heading:  SUNDAY]

23 May, Sunday.—­I went to Morning Service at the “Ocean” to-day, then walked back with Prince Alexander.  In the evening we drove to the Hoogstadt hospital.  The King of the Belgians was just saying good-bye to the staff, after paying a surprise visit.  He has a splendid face, and the simplicity of his plain dark uniform makes the strength and goodness of it all the more striking.

As I was waiting at the hospital the Germans began firing at a little village a mile off.  It is always strange to hear the shells whizzing over the fields.  We drove out to see the Yser and the floods, which have protected us all the winter.  With glasses one could have seen the German lines.