strict rule, he was not taken out and shot.

They said it was really pretty dreadful. From their window, they saw,
every little while, a group of soldiers lead some poor frightened
Belgian to a little cafe across the street; several officers were
sitting at one of the tables on the sidewalk, holding a sort of drumhead
court martial. While they were examining the case, a squad would be
marched around behind the railroad station. A few minutes later the
prisoner would be marched around by another way, and in a few minutes
there would be a volley and the troops would be marched back to their
post; then, after a little while, a stretcher would be brought out with
a body in civilian clothes, a cloth over the face. Some of the prisoners
were women, and there were screams before the shots were fired. It must
have been a dreadful ordeal to go through.

* * * * *

_Brussels, August 27, 1914._--The day after my last entry I started on a
trip to Antwerp, got through the lines and managed to wriggle back into
Brussels last night after reestablishing telegraph communication with
the Department and having a number of other things happen to and around
about me.

All I can remember now of the 23d is that it was a Sunday, and that we
could hear cannonading all day long from the east. It was hard to tell
just where it came from, but it was probably from the direction of Wavre
and Namur. It was drizzly all day. The German troops continued to pour
through the city. From time to time, during the last few days, their
march has been interrupted for a couple of hours at a time, apparently
as a result of a determined attempt on the part of the French and
English to stop the steady flow of troops toward the French frontier.
Each time we could hear the booming of the cannon, the deep voices of
the German guns and the sharp, dry bark of the French. At night we have
seen the searchlights looking for the enemy or flashing signals. Despite
the nearness of all this fighting and the sight of the wounded being
brought in, the streets barred off to keep the noisy traffic away from
the hospitals, and all the other signs of war, it has still been hard to
realize that it was so near us.

Our little German General, von Jarotzky, has kept clicking his heels
together and promising us anything we chose to ask. We have run around
day after day with our telegrams, and not one has got farther than the
Hotel d