ench
army; only a few of the older ones remained. But by day and night at
stated intervals the volume of their prayer and praise rose up above
the noise of war, just as it had risen through the centuries of the
past. There were beautiful gardens which the monks tended carefully,
and also many grape vines on the walls. We used to watch the silent
old men doing their daily work and making signs to one another instead
of speaking. In the evening I would make my way up the spiral staircase
to the west-end gallery, which looked down upon the chapel. The red
altar lamp cast a dim light in the sacred building, and every now and
then in the stillness I could hear, like the roar of a distant sea,
the sound of shells falling at the front. The mysterious silence of
the lofty building, with the far off reverberations of war thrilling
it now and then, was a solace to the soul.

A smaller chapel in the monastery, with a well-appointed altar, was
allotted by the monks to the chaplain for his services. While I was at
Mont des Cats we heard of the death of Lord Kitchener. The news came
to the Army with the force of a stunning blow; but thank God, the
British character is hardened and strengthened by adversity, and while
we all felt his loss keenly and looked forward to the future with
anxiety, the determination to go on to victory was made stronger by
the catastrophe. As the chaplain of the hospital was away at the time,
I held a memorial service in the large refectory. Following upon the
death of Lord Kitchener came another disaster. The Germans in the
beginning of June launched a fierce attack upon the 3rd Division,
causing many casualties and capturing many prisoners. General Mercer
was killed, and a brigadier was wounded and taken prisoner. To make
matters worse, we heard of the battle of Jutland, the first report of
which was certainly disconcerting. We gathered from it that our navy
had suffered a great reverse. The death of Lord Kitchener, the naval
reverse, and the fierce attack on our front, following one another in
such a short space of time, called for great steadiness of nerve and
coolness of head. I felt that the hospital was no place for me (p. 130)
when Canadians were meeting reverses at the front, especially as the
First Division was ordered to recapture the lost trenches. I telephoned
to my good friend, Colonel Brutenell, the C.O. of the Motor Machine-Gun
Brigade, and asked him to send me a side-car to take me forwa