We timed them. Scarcely a minute between each. Then, our ears becoming
accustomed, we were soon able to distinguish the passenger from the
freight trains, as well as the empty ones returning to Paris.

"Listen! Those last two were for the troops! That one is for the
ammunition. Oh, what a heavy one! It must be for the artillery!" And
we fell asleep before the noise ceased. Indeed for three long weeks
there was no end to it, as night and day the Eastern Railway rushed its
human freight towards the Eastern frontier.

Sunday morning, August second, found us all at our posts as the sun
rose. Elizabeth and I drove down to Charly for eight o'clock mass, and
all along the road met men and boys on their way to the station. The
church was full, but there were only women and elderly men in the
assembly; why, we knew but too well, and many wives and mothers had come
there to hide their grief. Our curate was a very old man, and the news
had given him such a shock that he was unable to say a word after
reaching the pulpit and stood there, tongue-tied, with the tears
streaming down his face for nearly five minutes--finally retiring
without uttering a sound. Not exactly the most fortunate thing that
could have happened, for his attitude encouraged others to give way to
their emotions, and there was a most impressive silence followed by much
sniffling and nose-blowing! All seemed better, though, after the shower,
and the congregation disbanded with a certain sense of relief.

Before leaving home H. told me to seek out the grocer, and to lay in a
stock of everything she dispensed.

"You see," said he, "we're now cut off from all resources. There are no