A warm, beautiful morning. As Madame de H. and I walked through the garden and the wood to the little convent ambulance, it was difficult not to contrast smiling Nature with the frightful scenes of which, in a few minutes, we would be a part. The awful stench of burned flesh met us half a block away and congealed my courage as I walked, for it permeates everything. We can even taste it, it clings in our hair when we go home and we are obliged to hang our nursing clothes out of the window all night. I felt as if I must run away from it and those terrible dressings, reeking with purulence, where ears and eyelids and lips come off and fingers and hands peel like a glove.

Then I thought of the patience of those brave fellows and the pain and awfulness of living it. The fortitude and devotion of the village men and women are beyond praise—they come day after day to help in the nursing, some spending the night, turn and turn about. Especially the tenderness of the men for their "camarades" is one of the sweetest things I ever saw, for they are as gentle and capable in their care as any woman could possibly be.

Prussian troops continue to pass and it is a wonderfully impressive sight; infantry in gray-green khaki, singing, always singing their famous "Wacht am Rhein" and other folk songs: the Uhlans, on beautiful prancing horses, with their long lances and gray-blue capes fluttering in the wind; chasseurs in light green; "Hussars de la Mort" with the death's head emblem in the front of their high fur hats and endless companies of artillery with their huge field cannon, each drawn by six magnificent horses. On the gun carriages sit four gunners back to back, still as statues, with arms folded as if on parade. It was for all the world like a circus when the procession goes twice around the ring before commencing the serious business of the entertainment.

Dinner was gay tonight (one is obliged to make the best of a bad affair) and the officers as men of the world were interesting and in unusually good spirits.

The Captain, a little facetiously, took up the menu and, drawing a tiny note-book and pencil from his pocket, proceeded to copy it in French, soliciting Madame X.'s aid en passant.

A curious fact occurred to me as I sat there looking down both sides of the table, how much alike they were—it seems as if they must even think the same thoughts to resemble each other so much. As their heads were closely cropped, outlines were baldly apparent, low forehead sloping back to a narrow crown and all set upon a bulwark of neck. They must surely have been struck in the same mould. Though forceful, none of them were good-looking except the young one, of whom I have spoken, and his face in repose was shockingly cruel. They are expecting marching orders in the morning and are probably eager to ride on to victory (?). They bade us good night and good-bye by kissing our hands as usual, a click of spurs, a military bow and very gracious thanks to Madame X. for her hospitality.