water, now drying in countless little cones, like the tents of some vast
Lilliputian army, and so at last into Courtrai.

It was like hundreds of other quaint old towns along the French and
Flemish border, not yet raked by war, but motionless, with workmen idle,
young men gone to the front, and nothing for people to do but exchange
rumors and wait for the clash to come. I strolled round the old square
and through some of the winding streets. One window was filled with
tricolor sashes carrying the phrase: "Long live our dear Belgium! May
God preserve her!"

On blank walls was this proclamation in parallel columns of French and
Flemish:


Ville De Courtrai Avis Important a la Population Courtraisienne Stad
Kortrijk Belangrijk Bericht aan de Kortrijksche Bevolking

I am about to make an appeal to your reason and your sentiments of
humanity.

If, in the course of the unjust war which we are now enduring, it
happens that French or Belgian troops bring German prisoners to our
city, I beseech you to maintain your calm and dignity. These prisoners,
wounded or not, I shall take under my protection, became I say that they
are not really to blame for acts which they have been ordered to do
under threat of cruel punishment.

Yes, I say I shall take them under my protection because my heart bleeds
to think that they, too, have left behind those dear to them--an aged