of man's discomfitures. On the
hillside stood a solitary house almost untouched, which, had there
been any reason for its being held sacred, might well have served as a
demonstration of Heaven's special intervention in its behalf. As it
was, it seemed to mock the still smouldering wreck of the beautiful
stone cathedral just beside it. Among the ruins in this valley of
desolation little groups of men darted hither and thither, resembling
from the harbour nothing so much as tiny black imps gloating over a
congenial environment. I hope never again to see the sight that might
well have suggested Gehenna to a less active imagination than Dante's.

Huts had been erected in open places to shelter the homeless; long
queues of hungry human beings defiled before temporary booths which
served out soup and other rations. Every nook and corner of house-room
left was crowded to overflowing with derelict persons and their
belongings. The roads to the country, like those now in the environs
of the towns in northern France, were dotted with exiles and belated
vehicles, hauling in every direction the remnants of household goods.
The feeling as of a rudely disturbed antheap dominated one's mind, and
yet, in spite of it all, the hospitality and welcome which we as
strangers received was as wonderful as if we had been a relief ship
laden with supplies to replace the immense amount destroyed in the
ships and stores of the city. Moreover, the cheerfulness of the town
was amazing. Scarcely a "peep" or "squeal" did we hear, and not a
single diatribe against the authorities. Every one had suffered
together. Nor was it due to any one's fault. True, the town
water-supply had been temporarily out of commission, some stranger was
said to have been smoking in the hay loft, Providence had not
specially intervened to save property, and hence this result. Thus to
our relief it was a city of hope, not of despair, and to our amazement
they were able to show most kindly interest in problems such as ours
which seemed so remote at the moment. None of us will ever forget
their kindness, from the Governor Sir Terence O'Brien, and the Prime
Minister, Sir William Whiteway, to the humblest stevedore on the
wharves.

I had expected to spend the greater part of our time cruising among
the fishing schooners out of sight of land on the big Banks as we did
in the North Sea; but I was advised that owing to fog and isolation,
each vessel working separately and bringi