There was a quiet air of light and beauty in the quaint old buildings that suggested the mediaeval prosperity of the city.

Behind the better class of houses there were the usual gardens, laid out with taste, and often containing fountains and rustic bridges.

The French and the Belgians delighted in striving to make a landscape garden in the small area at their command.
I shall always be thankful that I had the opportunity of paying this visit to Ypres while it still retained vestiges of its former beauty.
Dark and hideous dreams of drives on ambulances in the midnight hours haunt me now when the name of Ypres is mentioned.

I hear the rattle of lorries and motorcycles and the tramp of horses on the cobblestones.
The grim ruins on either side of the road stand out hard and sombre in the dim light of the starry sky.

There is the passing of innumerable men and the danger of the traffic-crowded streets.