ny
more time.

I managed to get some work done to-day. Wrote a paragraph about the
Ambulance for Mr. L., who will publish it in the _Westminster_ under his
name, to raise funds for us. He is more than ever certain that it (the
Ambulance) is the real thing.

Also wrote an article ("L'Hopital Militaire, No. 2") for the _Daily
Chronicle_; the first bit of journalism I've had time or material for.

Shopped. Very _triste_ affair.

Went to mass in the Cathedral. Sat far back among the refugees.

If you want to know what Religion really is, go into a Catholic church
in a Catholic country under invasion. You only feel the tenderness, the
naivete of Catholicism in peace-time. In war-time you realize its power.

[_Evening._]

Saw Mr. P., who has been at Termonde. He spoke with great praise of the
gallantry of our Corps.

It's odd--either I'm getting used to it, or it's the effect of that run
into Antwerp--but I'm no longer torn by fear and anxiety for their
safety.

[?] Dined with Mr. L. in a restaurant in the town. It proved to be more
expensive than either of us cared for. Our fried sole left us hungry and
yet conscience-stricken, as if after an orgy, suffering in a dreadful
communion of guilt.

[_Wednesday, 7th._]

7 A.M. Got up early and went to Mass in the Cathedral.

Prepared report for British Red Cross. Wrote "Journal of Impressions"
from September 25th to September 26th, 11 A.M. It's slow work. Haven't
got out of Ostend yet!

Fighting at Zele.

[_Afternoon._]

Got very near the fighting this time.

Mr. L. (Heaven bless him!) took me out with him in the War
Correspondents' car to see what the Ambulance was doing at Zele, and,
incidentally, to look at the bombardment of some evacuated villages near
it (I have no desire to see the bombardment of any village that has not
been evacuated first). Mr. M. came too, and they brought a Belgian lady
with them, a charming and beautiful lady, whose name I forget.

When Mr. L. told me to get up and come with him to Zele, I did get up
with an energy and enthusiasm that amazed me; I got up like one who has
been summoned at last, after long waiting, to a sure and certain
enterprise. I can trust Mr. L. or any War Correspondent who means
business, as I cannot (after Antwerp) trust the Commandant. So far, if
the Commandant happens upon a bombardment it has been either in the way
of duty, or by sheer luck, or both, as at Alost and Termonde, when duty
took him to