t
before I had seen _exactly_ this scene in a dream. Second sight always
gives me much to think about. The inevitableness of things seems much
accentuated by it. In my dream I stood by the other people in the yard
looking at the war in the air, and watching the circling aeroplanes and
the bursts of smoke.

At the station there was a nasty feeling that something was going to
happen. The Taubes wheeled about and hovered in the blue. I went to the
hospital for lunch, and afterwards I asked Mr. Bevan to come to the
station to look at some wounded whose dressings had not been touched for
too long. He said he would come in half an hour, so I said I wouldn't
wait, as he knew exactly where to find the men, and I came back to the
Villa for my rest. As I walked home I heard that the station had been
shelled, and I met one of the Belgian Sisters and told her not to go on
duty till after dark, but I had no idea till evening came of what had
happened. Ten shells burst in or round the station. Men, women, and
children were killed. They tell me that limbs were flying, and a French
chauffeur, who came on here, picked up a man's leg in the street. Mr.
Bevan sent up word to say none of us was to go to the station for the
present.

At Dunkirk seven Taubes flew overhead and dropped bombs, killing
twenty-eight people. At Pervyse shells are coming in every day. I can't
help wondering when we shall clear out of this. If the bridges are
destroyed it will be difficult to get away. The weather has turned very
wet again this evening. We have only had two or three fine days in as
many months. The wind howls day and night, and the place is so well
known for it that "vent de Furnes" is a byword. No doubt the floods
protect us, so one mustn't grumble at a sore throat.

[Page Heading: SHELLS AT FURNES]

_1 January._--The station was shelled again to-day. Three houses were
destroyed, and there was one person killed and a good many more were
wounded. A rumour got about that the Germans had promised 500 shells in
Furnes on New Year's Day.

In the evening I went down to the station, and I was evidently not
expected. Not a thing was ready for the wounded. The man in charge had
let all three fires out, and he and about seven soldiers (mostly drunk)
were making merry in the kitchen. None of them would budge, and I was
glad I had young Mr. Findlay with me, as he was in uniform, and helped
to get things straight. But these French seem to have very little