These last four months have seemed to me age long. By thousands have our
brave ones been mowed down. Wives, mothers are weeping for those they
shall not see again; hearths are desolate; dire poverty spreads, anguish
increases.
At Malines, at Antwerp the people of two great cities have been given
over, the one for six hours, the other for thirty-four hours, to a
continuous bombardment, to the throes of death.
I have traversed the greater part of the districts most terribly
devastated in my diocese,[4] and the ruins I beheld, and the ashes, were
more dreadful than I, prepared by the saddest of forebodings, could have
imagined.
[Footnote 4: Duffel, Lierre, Berlaer Saint Rombaut, Konings-Hoyckt,
Mortsel, Waelhem, Muysen, Wavre Sainte Caterine, Wavre Notre Dame,
Sempst, Weerde, Eppeghen, Hofstade, Elewyt, Rymenam, Boort-Meerbeek,
Wespelaer, Haecht, Werchter-Wackerzeel, Rotselaer, Tremeloo; Louvain and
its suburban environs, Blauwput, Kessel-Loo, Boven-Loo, Linden, Herent,
Thildonck, Bueken, Relst, Aerschot, Wesemael, Hersselt, Diest, Schaffen,
Molenstede, Rillaer, Gelrode.]
Other parts of my diocese, which I have not had time to visit,[5] have
in like manner been laid waste. Churches, schools, asylums, hospitals,
convents in great numbers are in ruins. Entire villages have all but
disappeared. At Werchter-Wackerzeel, for instance, out of 380 homes 130
remain.
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