e set with candles
and cards, and we felt that the nightingale provided a very charming
orchestra. We listened to it as we listened to amusing conversation,
with a sense of comfortable enjoyment and rest. Why talk of the time
when it sang of breaking hearts and high endeavour never satisfied, and
things which no one ever knew or guessed except oneself?

It sings now above the sound of death and of tears. Sometimes I think to
myself that God has sent his angel to open the prison doors when I hear
that bird in the little wood close beside the tram-way line.

On Thursday, June 3rd, I drove in the "bug" to Boulogne, and took the
steamer to England. I went through a nasty time in Belgium, but now a
good deal of queer affection is shown me, and I believe they all rather
like me in the corps.

* * * * *

The following brief impression of Miss Macnaughtan's work at the
soup-kitchen forms the most appropriate conclusion to her story of her
experiences in Belgium. She cut it out of some paper, and sent it home
to a friend in England, and we seem to learn from it--more than from any
words of her own--how much she did to help our Allies in their hour of
need:

"It was dark when my car stopped at the little station of
Adinkerke, where I had been invited to visit a soup-kitchen
established there by a Scotchwoman. In peace she is a
distinguished author; in war she is being a mother to such of the
Belgian Army as are lucky enough to pass her way. I can see her
now, against a background of big soup-boilers and cooking-stoves,
handing out woollen gloves and mufflers to the men who were to be
on sentry duty along the line that night. It was bitterly cold, and
the comforts were gratefully received.

"For a long time this most versatile lady made every drop of the
soup that was prepared for the men herself, and she has, so a
Belgian military doctor says, saved more lives than he has with her
timely cups of hot, nourishing food. It is only the most seriously
wounded men who are taken to the field hospital, the others are
carried straight to the railway-station, and have to wait there,
sometimes for many hours, till a train can take them on. Even then
trains carrying the wounded have constantly to be shunted to let
troop trains through. But, thanks to the enterprise and hard work
of this clever little lady, ther