went back and brought socks that were too large, and a shirt
that was too tight and trousers that were too long. Then he went back,
eager as ever, and brought drawers that were too tight, and more
trousers that were too short. He brought boots that were too large and
boots that were too tight; and he had to be sent back again for
slippers. Last of all he brought a shirt which made Russell smile and
mutter something about being dressed in all the colours of the rainbow;
and a black cutaway morning coat, and a variety of hats, all too small
for Russell.

Then when you had made a selection, you began to try to get Russell into
all these things that were too tight or too loose for him. The socks
were the worst. The right-hand one had to be put on very carefully, by
quarter inches at a time; the least tug on the sock would give Russell
an excruciating pain in his wounded knee; and Russell was all for
violence and haste; he was so afraid of being left behind.

Though he called me "Sister," I felt certain that Russell must know that
I wasn't a trained nurse and that he was the first wounded man I had
ever dressed in my life. However, I did get him dressed, somehow, with
the help of the little _infirmier_, and a wonderful sight he was, in the
costume of a Belgian civilian.

What tried him most were the hats. He refused a peaked cap which the
_infirmier_ pressed on him, and compromised finally on a sort of checked
cricket cap that just covered the extreme top of his head. We got him
off in time, after all.

Then two _infirmiers_ came with a stretcher and carried Cameron
upstairs to the operating theatre, and I went up and waited with him in
the corridor till the surgeons were ready for him. He had grown drowsy
and indifferent by now.

I have missed the Ambulance going out to Lokeren, and have had to stay
behind.

Two ladies called to see Mr. ----. One of them was Miss Ashley-Smith,
who had him in her ward at Antwerp. I took them over the Hospital to
find his room, which is on the second story. His name--his names--in
thick Gothic letters, were on a white card by the door.

He was asleep and the nurse could not let them see him.

Miss Ashley-Smith and her friend are staying in the Couvent de Saint
Pierre, where the British Field Hospital has taken some of its wounded.

Towards one o'clock news came of heavy fighting. The battle is creeping
nearer to us; it has stretched from Zele and Quatrecht to Melle, four
and a hal