owers of Notre Dame soaring close at hand.
There were no _gendarmes_ on the boat or on the quays, but how
could it he that we needed protection? After a quarter of an hour's
suspense, during which there had been a voluble counselling among
the group, the spokesman came forth again with our passports in hand
carefully folded, these he returned to us, touching his hat with a
stiff and formal bow. "We have persuaded ourselves," said he, "that
you are what you claim to be, Americans, and it is fortunate for you
that it is so, for we had intended to throw you into the Seine as
Prussian spies." Here was a surprise indeed! The group then dispersed
about the boat apparently satisfied. Still rather amused than alarmed
we pocketed our passports. Under the arch of one of the stately
bridges close by, the Seine flowed in heavy shadows on its way, and
we looked down upon the dark waters. Throbbing with life as we were,
could it be possible that we had just escaped a grave in its watery
embrace? Presently we landed light-hearted, and were again in the
streets, but in days that followed immediately my heart was often in
my throat, as I read in the papers of the corpses of men taken out of
the river who undoubtedly had been thrown in under suspicion of being
German spies. After a sojourn of not quite a week in Paris we made up
our minds it was no place for us. My plans for study were quite broken
up, it was scarcely possible to get back to Germany and nothing could
be done in France. I had letters which in a time of peace would have
opened the way for me to many a pleasant circle. My intention had been
to study for some time in France, but under the circumstances it would
be a comfortable thing to have the Atlantic rolling between me
and Europe, and therefore, I prepared to depart for home. At the
_pension_, on the day I had fixed for departure, while coming
down the staircase waxed and highly polished, I slipped and fell
heavily, so bruising my knee that I was nearly crippled. Fortunately
no bones were broken and with much pain I managed to hobble to the
official from whom I must obtain a pass to leave the city. I set out
for the North, on almost the last train that left the city, at the end
of August. The sights were gloomy, the towns which we passed seemed
associated with ancient bloodshed. We touched St. Quentin and crossed
the field of Malplaquet, and finally near Mons passed the Belgian
frontier. Marlborough and the names associat