twenty-third after three weeks of intense suffering—I stayed that night with him. The others are all out of danger with the exception of two who cannot get well—one is paralyzed and the other has tuberculosis.

I went to the village for the first time yesterday and was quite touched by the welcome I received at every little shop and house. The people seemed genuinely glad to have me back. They cannot seem to get over the fact that I have crossed the ocean twice and come back to them. To them the ocean is a thing of terror, especially since the war broke out. Doctor R—— has a great many sick people in the country about here to take care of in addition to the soldiers. In one house they had nothing to eat but potatoes, but he is a good deal like our dear old doctor, and feeds and clothes and takes care of them himself.

March 5, 1915.

I can scarcely believe that it is nearly three weeks since I left Paris. I have been so busy, that the days fly by. Some of the men are leaving to-morrow, and most of the others are getting along very well.

Mr. E—— is indeed kind. He has just sent an order to the village people, who make beautiful lace and embroidery, for $500.00 worth of work. They are so happy about it, for it means food for many of them. One poor woman, who has lost her husband in the war and has a child to take care of, can earn only eighteen francs a month, that is $3.60, and that is all she has to live on.

March 7, 1915.

One of the American doctors from the American Ambulance came to see me yesterday. He was very much interested in what he saw and is coming back in ten days. We have had one or two beautiful days, the pussy-willows are beginning to come out, and primroses everywhere.

Dr. S—— said that the man who owned the wonderful dog that is at the American Ambulance is really getting well, and they managed to save one leg and the crushed hand.

In Dr. B——’s service he did not do a single amputation during the months of January and February,—a very wonderful record.

Dr. S—— seems to think there is no hope of my poor paralyzed man getting better, he may live for twenty years but can never walk. I am giving him English lessons every day. He is very quick at learning; it helps pass the time. Poor man, he has already been in bed six months.

March 21, 1915.

This has been the most lovely Spring day. The violets are blooming in the fields, they are smaller than ours but very fragrant; the yellow primroses are beautiful and grow everywhere. There is still lots of snow on the mountains but none in the valley. If it were not for the soldiers who are here we could scarcely believe that terrible fighting is going on so near us.

A lot of our men went off last week, some of them scarcely able to hobble, poor things, but all the hospitals are being cleared out to make room for the freshly wounded. We are expecting a new lot every day, and have prepared ten extra beds.

I will have some letters this week to send to the “Red Cross” and “The De Monts” Chapter, I. O. D. E., thanking them for the things they sent back by me; they have been so much appreciated, done so much good and relieved so much distress. I gave some to Mademoiselle de C—— who sent them to a small hospital in Normandy near their chateau, some to the hospital here, and some to a small hospital not far from here where they are very poor; the doctor who is in charge there nearly wept when he knew the things were for him.

March 26, 1915.

Another beautiful day and the air is soft and balmy as a day in June. The woods and fields are full of spring flowers, there are big soft gray pussies on all the willow trees and the other trees are beginning to show a faint tinge of green. It is certainly a lovely place.

You probably felt much relieved that I was not in Paris at the time of the last air raid when the bombs were dropped. One fell so near the Ambulance at Neuilly that one of the doctors was knocked out of bed by the shock.

I had my paralyzed man out on the balcony to-day, it is the first time in six months that he has been out.

One of the men here, who has lost the use of both hands, told me to-day that he had six brothers in the army; two have been killed, two wounded and two are still at the front. He was a coachman in a private family, has lost a thumb of one hand and on the other has only the thumb and one finger left. Fortunately his employer is a good man and will take care of him; but think of the poor man,—horses are his chief joy, and he will never be able to drive again.

The Hopelessly Paralyzed Man
Who afterwards walked two miles on crutches.
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Easter Sunday and still raining. We had a splendid service from Mr. R—— and a Communion service after. The service is more like the Presbyterian than any other. We have four new soldiers but the large convoy has not yet arrived. There has been awful fighting in Alsace lately, so the wounded must come soon.

To-day we had a specially good dinner for the men. Madam B—— gave them cigars and Easter eggs, and after dinner they sang some of their songs, then gave us three cheers. They are a fine lot of men and so grateful for everything we do for them.

The story of the dog has gone through the whole country, but it is nice to know that it is really true, and to have seen the dog.

Dr. B—— was able to save the other leg of the dog’s master, and after another operation he thinks he will have the use of his hand.

April 10, 1915.

We had a severe snow storm to-day and yesterday also, and in between the snow storms it poured rain; all the lovely, spring weather has disappeared.

Wednesday night they announced the arrival of a train of wounded, for the next morning at half-past five, but did not tell us how many to expect. We all went to the Ambulance at half-past five and got everything ready for dressing and beds prepared for thirty. At seven thirteen arrived,—all convalescents, and no dressings at all to do. The last time forty came, and all in a dreadful state of infection, so we never know what to expect.

I am not sorry I came back to Divonne for I feel that I have been able to help more here than in Paris; there they have many to help and here very few.

I am sending you a photo of three of my patients—Chasseurs d’ Alpine or “Blue Devils” as the Germans call them—they are the ones who have done such wonderful work in Alsace.

Three Chasseurs d' Alpine
Called by the Germans “Blue Devils.”
LINK TO IMAGE