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[Page 40]
three crosses. At the bottom is the stable with statues of Mary and Christ in the manger, whilst all the way up the miniature hill are statues showing different portions of Christ's life, the whole being crowned with the Crucified Saviour, and the two thieves on either side, the whole work including the statues is very ordinary but viewed in the dull light streaming through the coloured glass, there must have been a certain impressiveness which certainly is not there now in its ruined state. We of course climbed up the Tower as far as possible. The Cloth Hall and St. Martins Cathedral has been more unfortunate and very little except the walls and Tower is left standing, and it is very hard to picture the building as it must have stood before the war in all its magnificence. The construction of the pillars struck me as very curious, consisting of a great number of round stone discs about 18" thick and laid one on top of the other like a huge pile of pennies, all cemented together. This construction looks very weak and two hugh pillars have fallen down through being struck at the base by a shell. All the "pennies" slipping off their setting. However, the toll tower is still standing and so we climbed our weary way up those hundreds and hundreds of steps. Each step is a separate piece of stone, and forming a spiral stairway by being set into the outer circular wall at one end and the other end balanced on the one below. This is all very well until you come to a part where the portion balanced on the one underneath has shifted, to one side being only held up by the outer wall, then perhaps a little further up they will have shifted the other way making the whole stairway look very insecure. But at last we step out on top and see all around us are green fields fine rows of trees while on our right is the lake in its beautiful verdant setting, and its regular fringe of elms only broken where the house dips its side walls right into the shiny surface. On the horizon we see the ridge held by the Germans looking very bare and ugly as it lies in amongst those woods standing out stark and black as each limbless tree seems to tell its tale of suffering. Looking nearer our eyes are again gladdened by the green and brown tints of nature, not spoilt by the ravages of war, but letting our eyes wander still nearer they gradually become clouded because lo right at our feet is that great rubbish heap Ypres. How hard it is