gether. I was personally very thankful not
to have my belongings looked at too closely, for I had several things I
did not at all want to part with; one was my camera, which was sewn up
inside my travelling cushion, a little diary that I had kept in Belgium,
and a sealed letter that had been given me as we stood outside the
station at Brussels by a lady who implored me to take it to England and
post it for her there, as it was to her husband in Petrograd, who had
had no news of her since the war began. I had this in an inside secret
pocket, and very much hoped I should get it through successfully.

We were ordered into the train again in the same polite manner that we
had been ordered out. Our two soldiers were much upset by the treatment
we had received. One had tears in his eyes when he told us how sorry he
was, for he had the funny old-fashioned idea that Red Cross Sisters on
active service should be treated with respect--even if they were
English. He then told us that their orders were to accompany us to
Cologne; he did not know what was going to happen to us after that. So
Germany was to be our destination after all.

At the next station we stopped for a long time, and then the doors of
the carriages were opened and we were each given a bowl of soup. It was
very good and thick, and we christened it "hoosh" with remembrance of
Scott's rib-sticking compound in the Antarctic; and there was plenty of
it, so we providently filled up a travelling kettle with it for the
evening meal. Then we went on again and crawled through that
interminable day over the piece of line between Herbesthal and Cologne.
Evening came, and we thought of the "hoosh," but when it came to the
point no one could look at it, and we threw it out of the window. A
horrible yellow scum had settled on the top of it and clung to the
sides, so that it spoilt the kettle for making tea--and we _were_ so
thirsty.

At last, late at night, we saw the lights of Cologne. We had been
thirty-two hours doing a journey that ordinarily takes six or seven. We
were ordered out of the train when we reached the station, and were
marched along between two rows of soldiers to a waiting-room. No porters
were allowed to help us, so we trailed all along those underground
corridors at Cologne station with our own luggage. Fortunately it was so
late that there were not many people about. We were allowed to have a
meal here, and could order anything we liked. Some coffee was a