o reason of war to
call for the destruction of the orphan asylum, we entered its portals to
investigate. Before us lay burnt beds and littered glass. We searched
what ten days before had been a convent, and crawled over heaps of
logs and brick into narrow alleys that reminded one of Naples or
Pompeii--alleys where the walls stood so close as to hide the light
of sun but not the odor of charred vats and sewage and smouldering,
smelling things, long dead. Not far from there the way widened into
the light, and before us, breaking the rays of sunset, stood the cross
above a heap of cobblestones.

"They are buried here," said Verhagen, "and here too is my house."

Another alderman, a friend of Verhagen, who had been allowed to remain
in Termonde most of the four days that the Germans stayed, had the story
detailed in his little pocket diary. On Thursday, September 3, he said,
he was just leaving his rope and twine factory when he heard the sounds
of musketry to the south. A small force of Belgian outposts were
completely surprised by a part of the Ninth German Army Corps under
General von Boehn. They were completely outclassed. Before retreating,
however, they let the enemy have a couple of volleys. In the return
fire they lost six of their men. They then retreated into the town and
across the bridge.

Nothing happened after dark, but the next morning at nine o'clock the
cannonading started. Inside of half an hour, according to the villagers,
the entire German force of the One Hundred and Sixty-second and
One Hundred and Sixty-third Uhlans and the Ninetieth Regiment of
infantry of the Ninth Army Corps were in the town. They entered
simultaneously by three different roads. The burgomaster was
ordered immediately to provide rations for the regiment. But the
burgomaster was away. He was given twelve hours to return. When
he did not return, the burning began, according to the townspeople.

"The soldiers did not wish to burn the town," said one man; "but the
orders were orders of war." He recounted that four Uhlans entered
his house with a bow, and a knock at the door, politely helped
themselves to his cellar, drank a toast to his wife, put his chairs in the
street, and sat there playing his phonograph. They said they were
sorry, but the house must be burnt. But before pouring on the
naphtha and lighting the flame they freed his canary bird. Verhagen
and the priest agreed that fright brought on an attack to