historic and consecrated buildings such as those at Louvain and Rheims
are burnt down, but in a way it is more pathetic to see these poor
little cottages destroyed, that must have meant so much to their owners,
and it makes one's heart ache to see among the crumbling ruins the
remains of a baby's perambulator, or the half-burnt wires of an old
four-post bed. Probably the inhabitants of Jumet had all fled, as there
was no one to be seen as we went through the deserted village, except
some German sentries pacing up and down.

Parts of Charleroi were still burning as we got to it, and a terrible
acrid smoke pervaded everything. Here the poorer streets were spared,
and it was chiefly the rich shops and banks and private houses that had
been destroyed. Charleroi was the great Birmingham of Belgium--coal-pits
all round, with many great iron and steel works, now of course all idle,
and most of the owners entirely ruined. The town was absolutely crammed
with German troops as we passed through; it had now been occupied for
two or three days and was being used as a great military depot.

But Charleroi was not to be our final destination--we went on a few more
kilometres along the Beaumont road, and drew up at a fairly large
building right out in the country. It was a hospital that had been three
parts built ten years ago, then abandoned for some reason and never
finished. Now it was being hastily fitted up as a Red Cross hospital,
and stretcher after stretcher of wounded--both French and German--were
being brought in as we arrived.

The confusion that reigned within was indescribable. There were some
girls there who had attended first-aid lectures, and they were doing
their best; but there were no trained nurses and no one particularly in
command. The German doctor had already gone, one of the Belgian doctors