t thirty miles behind the Salient. The men were in good
spirits, and by this time were becoming accustomed to the pave roads.
We passed through Caestre, where I saw my old friends, the Mayor and
Mayoress. That afternoon I was taken by two British officers to the
little hotel in Cassel for luncheon. The extensive view over the
country from the windows reminded me of dear old Quebec. After luncheon
my friends motored me to Ypres. The city at that time had not been
heavily shelled, except the Cloth Hall and Cathedral. The shops around
the square were still carrying on their business and people there were
selling post-cards and other small articles. We went into the
Cathedral, which had been badly damaged. The roof was more or less
intact and the altar and pulpit in their places. I saw what an (p. 050)
impressive place it must have been. The Cloth Hall had been burnt, but
the beautiful stone facade was still undamaged. A fire engine and
horses were quartered under the central tower. There was a quiet air
of light and beauty in the quaint old buildings that suggested the
mediaeval prosperity of the city. Behind the better class of houses
there were the usual gardens, laid out with taste, and often containing
fountains and rustic bridges. The French and the Belgians delighted in
striving to make a landscape garden in the small area at their
command.

I shall always be thankful that I had the opportunity of paying this
visit to Ypres while it still retained vestiges of its former beauty.
Dark and hideous dreams of drives on ambulances in the midnight hours
haunt me now when the name of Ypres is mentioned. I hear the rattle of
lorries and motorcycles and the tramp of horses on the cobblestones.
The grim ruins on either side of the road stand out hard and sombre in
the dim light of the starry sky. There is the passing of innumerable
men and the danger of the traffic-crowded streets. But Ypres, as I saw
it then, was full of beauty touched with the sadness of the coming
ruin.

In the afternoon, I motored back to our brigade on the outskirts of
Cassel. After dinner I started off to find my new billet. As usual I
lost my way. I went off down the country roads. The farms were silent
and dark. There was no one to tell me where my battalion was. I must
have gone a long distance in the many detours I made. The country was
still a place of mystery to me, and "The little owls that hoot and
call" seemed to be the voice of the night i