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[Page 66]

is a country for a patriot to die for. Montreuil is one of those romantic old towns built on a hill, surrounded by a great wall, and looking far out over the rolling lands of "Cires". Long dark lines intersect the landscape in every direction & indicate the well kept avenued roads. I returned to Ralenscourt and had afternoon tea in the Chateau - in a fine old room, with oak panellings, on which hung ancestral paintings. What tales of romance & tragedy this same old room could speak of, for it lived through the great revolution. I left Bean at Fauquenbergues and returned to Steenvorde, after having done nearly 100 miles. As we neared Steenvorde, we noticed a great bunch of searchlight converging on one spot & at the apex glittered something

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