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Updated: June 8, 2025
The dried flakes of yellow mud, first besomed and then brushed, raised such a dust, that in the dust, man and horse were lost. Arrived here just at dressing-time. Lord Carrington had asked the Lushingtons and Dr. Holland can't come. Count and Countess Ludolf expected to-morrow: he is ambassador from Sicily. Fanny says you and she met them at Lady Davy's. To MRS. RUXTON.
The advancing Germans reached at last the strip of ground where his shrapnel hailed and lashed, reached the strip and pushed into it but not past it. Up to the shrapnel zone the advance could press; through, it could not. Under the shrapnel nothing could live. It swept the ground in driving gust on gust, swept and besomed it bare of life.
We repaired the long skeleton, soft and black, of its timbers. From that dried-up drain we besomed the rubbish of equipment, of petrified weapons, of rotten clothes and of victuals, of a sort of wreckage of forest and house filthy, incomparably filthy, infinitely filthy. We worked by night and hid by day. The only light for us was the heavy dawn of evening when they dragged us from sleep.
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