watch the packet come in from England. The letters, by the way, were
posted in the guard's van of a stationary train where Belgian soldiers
sorted and despatched them. I used to wonder vaguely if the train rushed
off in the night delivering them.

There was a charm and fascination about meeting that incoming boat; the
rattle of chains, the clang as the gangway was fixed, the strange cries
of the French sailors, the clicking of the bayonets as the cordon formed
round the fussy passport officer, and lastly the excitement of watching
to see if there was a spy on board. The _Walmer Castle_ and the
_Canterbury_ were the two little packets employed, and they have
certainly seen life since the war began. Great was our excitement if we
caught sight of Field Marshal French on his way to G.H.Q., or King
Albert, his tall form stooping slightly under the cares of State, as he
stepped into his waiting car to be whirled northwards to _La Panne_.

The big Englishman (accompanied by a little man disguised in very plain
clothes as a private Detective) also scanned every passenger closely as
he stepped on French soil, and we turned away disgustedly as each was
able to furnish the necessary proof that he was on lawful business.
"Come, Struttie, we must fly," and back we hurried over the bridge, past
the lighthouse, across the Place d'Armes, up the Rue de la Rivière and
so to Hospital once more.

When things became more settled, definite off times were arranged. Up to
then sisters and nurses had worked practically all day and every day, so
great was the rush. We experienced some difficulty in having baths, as
there were none up at the "Shop." Dr. Cools from the Gare Centrale told
us some had been fitted in a train down there, and permission was
obtained for us to use them. But first we were obliged to present