ty of the old building before its destruction.

I examined them there in the public square, with a shell every now and
then screeching above but falling harmlessly far away.

A priest joined us. He told pathetically of watching the destruction
of the Arcade, of seeing one arch after another go down until there
was nothing left.

"They ate it," said the priest graphically. "A bite at a time."

We walked through the town. One street after another opened up its
perspective of destruction. The strange antics that shell fire plays
had left doors and lintels standing without buildings, had left intact
here and there pieces of furniture. There was an occasional picture on
an exposed wall; iron street lamps had been twisted into travesties;
whole panes of glass remained in facades behind which the buildings
were gone. A part of the wooden scaffolding by which repairs were
being made to the old tower of the Cloth Hall hung there uninjured by
either flame or shell.

On one street all the trees had been cut off as if by one shell, about
ten feet above the ground, but in another, where nothing whatever
remained but piles of stone and mortar, a great elm had apparently not
lost a single branch.

Much has been written about the desolation of these towns. To get a
picture of it one must realise the solidity with which even the
private houses are built. They are stone, or if not, the walls are of
massive brick coated with plaster. There are no frame buildings; wood
is too expensive for that purpose. It is only in prodigal America that
we can use wood.

So the destruction of a town there means the destruction of buildings
that have stood for centuries, and would in the normal course of
events have stood for centuries more.

A few civilians had crept back into the town. As in other places, they
had come back because they had no place else to go. At any time a
shell might destroy the fragment of the building in which they were
trying to reestablish themselves. There were no shops open, because
there were no shops to open. Supplies had to be brought from long
distances. As all the horses and automobiles had been commandeered by
the government, they had no way to get anything. Their situation was
pitiable, tragic. And over them was the daily, hourly fear that the
German Army would concentrate for its onward drive at some near-by
point.

CHAPTER XIV

LADY DECIES' STORY

It was growing dark; the chauffeur was preparing