looking up at the clear blue sky. Before I had left home there was a
shell in a street close by, and one heard that already these horrible
birds of prey had been at work, and had thrown two bombs, which
destroyed two houses in the Rue des Trèfles. The pigeons that circle
round the old buildings in Furnes always seem to see the Taubes first,
as if they knew by sight their hateful brothers. They flutter disturbed
from roof and turret, and then, with a flash of white wings, they fly
far away. I often wish I had wings when I see them.

I went to the station, and then to the hospital for slippers for some
wounded men. Five aeroplanes were overhead--Allies' and German--and
there was a good deal of firing. I was struck by the fact that the night
before I had seen _exactly_ this scene in a dream. Second sight always
gives me much to think about. The inevitableness of things seems much
accentuated by it. In my dream I stood by the other people in the yard
looking at the war in the air, and watching the circling aeroplanes and
the bursts of smoke.

At the station there was a nasty feeling that something was going to
happen. The Taubes wheeled about and hovered in the blue. I went to the
hospital for lunch, and afterwards I asked Mr. Bevan to come to the
station to look at some wounded whose dressings had not been touched for
too long. He said he would come in half an hour, so I said I wouldn't
wait, as he knew exactly where to find the men, and I came back to the
Villa for my rest. As I walked home I heard that the station had been
shelled, and I met one of the Belgian Sisters and told her not to go on
duty till after dark, but I had no idea till evening came of what had
happened. Ten shells burst in or round the station. Men, women, and
children were killed. They tell me that limbs were flying, and a French
chauffeur, who came on here, picked up a man's leg in the street. Mr.