I don't dare
to, sure as I am of seeing Germany beaten to her knees before the war
is closed.

XI

September 8, 1914.

Oh, the things I have seen and felt since I last wrote to you over two
weeks ago. Here I am again cut off from the world, and have been since
the first of the month. For a week now I have known nothing of what was
going on in the world outside the limits of my own vision. For that
matter, since the Germans crossed the frontier our news of the war has
been meager. We got the calm, constant reiteration--"Left wing--held by
the English--forced to retreat a little." All the same, the general
impression was, that in spite of that, "all was well." I suppose it was
wise.

On Sunday week,--that was August 30,--Amelie walked to Esbly, and came
back with the news that they were rushing trains full of wounded
soldiers and Belgian refugies through toward Paris, and that the
ambulance there was quite insufficient for the work it had to do. So
Monday and Tuesday we drove down in the donkey cart to carry bread and
fruit, water and cigarettes, and to "lend a hand."

It was a pretty terrible sight. There were long trains of wounded
soldiers. There was train after train crowded with Belgians--well-dressed
women and children (evidently all in their Sunday best)--packed on to
open trucks, sitting on straw, in the burning sun, without shelter,
covered with dust, hungry and thirsty. The sight set me to doing
some hard thinking after I got home that first night. But it was
not until Tuesday afternoon that I got my first hint of the truth. That
afternoon, while I was standing on the platform, I heard a drum beat in
the street, and sent Amelie out to see what was going on. She came back
at once to say that it was the garde champetre calling on the
inhabitants to carry all their guns, revolvers, etc., to the mairie
before sundown. That meant the disarming of our departement, and it
flashed through my mind that the Germans must be nearer than the
official announcements had told us.

While I stood reflecting a moment,--it looked serious,--I saw
approaching from the west side of the track a procession of wagons.
Amelie ran down the track to the crossing to see what it meant, and came
back at once to tell me that they were evacuating the towns to the north
of us.

I handed the basket of fruit I was holding into a coach of the train
just pulling into the station, and threw my last package of cigarettes