em) deserve much of the credit for the
soup-kitchen, if any credit is going about, as they started with coffee
before I came, and did wonders on nothing. Now that I have bought my
pots and pans and stoves we are able to do soup, and much more. The
Sisters do the coffee on one side of eight feet by eight, while I and my
vegetables and the stove which goes out are on the other. We can't ask
people to help because there is no room in the kitchen; besides, alas!
there are so many people who like raising a man's head and giving him
soup, but who do not like cutting up vegetables.

After the first convoy of wounded has been served, other wounded men
come in from time to time, then about 4 o'clock there is another
train-load. At ten p.m. the largest convoy arrives. The men seem too
stiff to move, and many are carried in on soldiers' backs. The
stretchers are laid on the floor, those who can "s'asseoir" sit on
benches, and every man produces a "quart" or tin cup. One and all they
come out of the darkness and never look about them, but rouse themselves
to get fed, and stretch out poor grimy hands for bread and steaming
drinks. There is very little light--only one oil-lamp, which hangs from
the roof, and burns dimly. Under this we place the "marmites," and all
that I can see is one brown or black or wounded hand stretched out into
the dim ring of light under the lamp, with a little tin mug held out for
soup. Wet and ragged, and covered with sticky mud, the wounded lie in
the salle of the station, and, except under the lamp, it is all quite
dark. There are dim forms and frosty breaths, and a door which bangs
continually, and then the train loads up, the wounded depart, and a
heavy smell and an empty pot are all that remain. We clean up the
kitchen, and go home about 1 a.m. I do the night work alone.

_24 November._--We are beginning to get into our stride, and the small
kitchen turns out its gallons and buckets of liquid. Mrs. ---- has been
helping me with my work. It is good to see anyone so beautiful in the
tiny kitchen, and it is quaint to see anyone so absolutely ignorant of
how a pot is washed or a vegetable peeled.

I have a little electric lamp, which is a great comfort to me, as I have
to walk home alone at midnight. When I get up in the morning I have to
remember all I shall want during the day, as the villa is a mile from
the station, so I take my lantern out at 9.30 a.m.!

I saw a Belgian regiment march back to the t