ave been a funny
outfit, and at last accounts were getting along in good style. The air
is filled with nervousness, however, and there is a constantly
increasing list of people who are being thrown into jail, or shot as
spies, and there is little time for careful and painstaking trials for
wanderers who are picked up inside the lines of the fighting armies and
are unable to render a convincing account of themselves. I shall be
rather uncomfortable about them until they reappear.

While we were waiting for the final formalities for our trip to be
accomplished, I invested in a wrist watch and goggles. We also bought a
fuzzy animal like a Teddy bear, about three inches high, and tied him on
the radiator as a mascot. He made a hit with all hands and got a
valuable grin from several forbidding-looking Germans. We had signs on
the car fore and aft, marking it as the car of the American Legation,
the signs being in both French and German. As we were the first to try
to make the trip, we thought it up to us to neglect nothing that would
help to get us through without any unpleasant shooting or bayoneting.

[Illustration: Letter signed by Burgomaster Max requesting the Belgian
authorities to allow Mr. Gibson to pass through the lines on his way to
Antwerp. This was one of the last documents signed by the Burgomaster
before he was sent to Germany as a prisoner of war.

Bruxelles, le 24 Septembre 1914

Le Bourgmestre de Bruxelles, prie les Autorites Belges de bien
vouloir laisser passer Monsieur Hugh S. Gibsen, secretaire de la
Legation des Etats-Unis d'Amerique, accompagne de son chauffeur.

M.H.S. Gibsen est charge d'une mission officielle.

Le Bourgmestre

Vu au Consulat de Belgique
a ROOSENDAAL (P.B.)
le 28 septembre 1914

LE CONSUL DE BELGIQUE]

After formally filing all our telegrams with the German General, Blount
and I got under way at half-past two. We pulled out through the northern
end of the city, toward Vilvorde. There were German troops and supply
trains all along the road, but we were not stopped until we got about
half way to Vilvorde. Then we heard a loud roar from a field of cabbages
we were passing and, looking around, discovered what looked like a
review of the Knights of Pythias. A magnificent-looki