remarkable. His beauty much damaged. But it will only be temporary.

Hunt tells me that Swallow is so frightened of Jezebel he daren't lie
down at night. But then, Hunt thinks Jezebel a sort of Bucephalus, and
the more horses she kicks or bites the more pride he takes in her. He
has no love for Swallow, unfortunately.

There's a distant cannonade going on to-day. We all eye each other.


_June 17._

In the small-hours of to-night we leave this wonderful place. Why we
were ever sent here or why moved away is one of those mysteries only
known to a few staff officials.

But how we have loved it. At least I have. Some of the others--Jorrocks
for instance--have been bored. But, then, they couldn't draw, poor
dears. Do you know I have done three pictures. That's a lot in this
military life. One of the courtyard, with cocks and hens and things, and
in the distance men cleaning their saddles. Another of the vestibule,
with Julian and Edward consulting over some map or other at a table.
Another of a "fosse" or coal-pit about a mile away. A coal-pit sounds
repulsive, but not so in Northern France. They are away from all houses
and surrounded by corn-fields. The coal refuse is the curious part of
it. Up it comes from the main shaft and is piled up into a series of
large pyramids, visible for miles around. Many of the famous "redoubts"
are coal-refuse pyramids really. And such nice little chimneys.
Rinaldo--gone! Isn't it heartbreaking! An important person comes nosing
round, and asks for him. Sir John doesn't like to refuse. I am