The first hospital train with 100 wounded reached Plymouth yesterday afternoon. One of the Red Cross detachment told me yesterday that she saw it go through Lydford station. From scraps of information in the papers we gather that the battle of Sunday week, which lasted three days was fearful. The worst battle ever fought. Ursula Frank & baby left this morning to return to Wimbledon. Pity the weather has turned so hot again as it is so bad for baby.

Mary, Dorothea, & I cut out shirts in the morning. In the afternoon working party Mrs Smith brought out the map and showed it to the people & tried to explain the seriousness of the situation to them.

Some were too grand to look at the map. Most of them have not an idea how terribly near the fighting is & they think the whole thing will be over soon.

“Wonderfully daring of the Germans.” One said, they think our army ought to strike terror into the enemy’s hearts, not knowing what a little thimble full it is.

It is sad to see the young men of the day of hanging back, not only the lower classes but our own. There are several in this neighbourhood alone who ought to volunteer but do not.

Mrs Smith is very worried about Fräulein. She thinks she is a spy. There are tales going about that many German governesses are in the pay of their government as spies. Poor Mrs Smith, what with the excitement of seeing London in such a state & worry over Alex & his bad leg. She seemed pretty much on edge this afternoon.

Another lovely sunset.

Someone has stuck up on the tree in the road, a cutting from the newspaper.
“Wanted. Petticoat’s for all able-bodied young men who have not yet joined the Army or Navy.”

I fancy there will be a bit of a row over that.