The same dazzling blue sky, boiling sun, and sharp shadows that one seldom sees in England for long together; we’ve had it for days.
We’ve had yesterday’s London papers to read to-day; they quote in a rather literal translation from their Paris Correspondent word for word what we read in the Paris papers yesterday. I wonder what the English hospital people in Brussels are doing in the German occupation,—pretty hard times for them, I expect. Two that I know are there doing civilian work, and Lord Rothschild has got a lot of English nurses there.
This morning I went to the great Requiem Mass at Notre Dame. It was packed to bursting with people standing, but we were immediately shown to good places. The Abbé preached a very fine war sermon, quite easy to understand. There was a great deal of weeping on all sides. When the service was finished the big organ suddenly struck up “God Save the King”; it gave one such a thrill. And then a long procession of officers filed out, our generals with three rows of ribbons leading, and the French following.
This is said to be our biggest base, and that we shall get some very good work. Of course, once we get the wounded in it doesn’t make any difference where you are.