This morning when I went Noblett had nearly a sackful of curiosities, which I sorted over. Evidently these were the whole contents of the canteen of plated things we used to take with us when we took a furnished house and put the silver in a bank, quantities of spoons and forks, black, and looking like old iron, many twisted into weird shapes, and the knives, which were new when we came here, without a scrap of ivory handle, and the blades burnt and twisted in the most extraordinary way. A most miserable-looking collection, fit only for the dust-heap.
They are nearing the end of the excavations, and nothing of any value has been found. This morning when I went I found them cutting into a mound of what looked like solid white chalk. I could not imagine what it could be, but the men told me it was the books that had been stored in one of the great mahogany presses; not a trace of burnt wood was found. I could not believe that books could be reduced to such a substance. I had expected to find quantities of charred black paper, with possibly some fragments of binding, and was quite incredulous. However, on examining it I found the substance was in layers like the leaves of a book, but when I picked some up it felt like silk between my fingers, and you could blow it away like thistle-down. Had I not seen it myself I should never have believed such a thing possible. Besides H.'s and P.'s books there were a number of great official books in leather bindings half an inch thick, but _all_ was reduced to the same substance.
Noblett gave me to-day one of Princess Mary's gift boxes that had been sent to me by a soldier at the front; except for being black instead of bright brass, it was absolutely uninjured--the medallion in the centre, and the inscription, date, etc., perfect. The Christmas card inside and the Queen's letter were just black charred paper, but you could see the M. and the crown above it on the card. Also an antique brass snuff-box inlaid with mother-of-pearl turned up but little injured.
To-day the men finished their work on H.'s room. At the last about eight fragments of silver forks and two tablespoons were taken out and a foot of a silver sugar-bowl with a bit of something that looked like burnt tissue paper attached to it; and that was all that was found of all our silver. The half of a copper base of one of our beautiful Sheffield plate candelabra came out of one of the last shovelfuls,--and there was an end of all our property.