As was predicted; with the obliging addition of a shower of rain. As I slept under the only considerable hole in the roof, I was rudely awakened by a streamlet pattering on the blankets. We have had a cold, moist drive through villages, small towns (one, Longueville, a very pretty one) and large town, Haut-Mont. Now quartered in an ugly village; some, like myself, in barns. The rain drifts miserably on our shivering steeds and fast rusts our harnesses. J’ai froid; vive les grenouilles!
In the towns passed today the civil population seems to be rapidly re-establishing itself: ex-manufacturing places; the population must be dense in normal times. Little damage from shell-fire, though all the main railway and river bridges have been blown up and replaced temporarily.
Walk March 