mess-tins were
opened and found to be full of stolen articles. After Morhange, a French
doctor of the 20th Corps remained in the German lines to be near his
wounded. He was accosted by one of his German 'confreres.'[3] who with
his own hands stole his watch and pocket-book.

At Raon-sur-Plaine, after the retreat of our troops, Dr. Schneider
remained behind with thirty wounded. Next day up came a German ambulance
with Professor Vulpius, a well-known German scientist of Heidelberg
University, who must have presided over many international medical
congresses. As soon as he was installed, "Herr Professor" intimated to
his French fellow-doctors that he was "going to begin with a small
customary formality." The formality was a simple one: his colleagues
were to hand over to him "all the money they had on them." "I strongly
protested" (declared the French doctor, on oath), "but we were compelled
to hand over our purses and all their contents. Having relieved us in
this way, he turned to our poor wounded, who were all searched and
stripped of their money. There was nothing to be done: we were in the
hands, not of a doctor, but of a regular brute...."

(4) _Royal thieves_: After living about a week in a chateau near Liege,
H.R.H. Prince Eitel Fritz, the Duke of Brunswick, and another nobleman
of less importance, had all the dresses that could be found in the
wardrobes belonging to the lady of the house and her daughters packed up
before their own eyes, and sent to Germany.

* * * * *

These thieves are often _facetious_: they give as compensation a
so-called receipt or bond (in German, of course), which in French means,
"Good for a hundred lashes," or "Good for two rabbits," or "To be shot,"
or "Payable in Paris".... They are also _disgusting_. In houses robbed
by them they leave, by way of visiting cards, excrement in beds, on
tables, and in cupboards. They are sometimes _unnaturally vicious_. In a
village of Limbourg they burnt in a stable a stallion valued at 50,000
francs, and "forced the farmer, his wife and children to witness the
crime on their knees with their arms raised." Amongst the crowd of
unfortunate people brought from Louvain to Brussels were thirteen
priests. The soldiers at a German guard-house stopped the column, and
ordered the priests to come out. To shoot them? No. They forced them
into a pigsty, from which they had driven out the only pig. Forthwith
they compelled most of