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There is nothing you can tell me about the “devastated areas” in France, for I have visited every inch of the ground; but there the people could move on to the next villages, and were not imprisoned among the ruins. I would not minimise German atrocities, but they did not fill the churches with women and children before firing them! The wholesale destruction of villages and of cattle is not “legitimate warfare,” but this butchering of women has put the Greek outside the pale of civilisation.

“They have left us the sunset,” I could only murmur, “this marvellous panorama of which one never tires.” The desolation, indeed, lends it a double wonder. Why cannot men, too, die in glory?

The railway line has been cut at Gunhani. Here, no doubt, the Governor has been instructed not only to welcome us with every comfort—tea, coffee, and statistics—but to find us beds which do not exist!

We are travelling in the dark, since the sun has deserted us. Every now and again the officer flashes out his little electric lamp to see that all is well. The feelings of my fellow-passengers must be murderous, for have I not kept the train waiting all along the line, so that we are even later than normal Turkish management would have made us? But I can detect no black looks.