road on either side strewn with tree-trunks, their sprawling limbs
still green with leaves. It was along this highway that the invaders
first entered Belgium. The peasants, turning their axes loose on
the poplars and the royal elms that lined the road, had filled it with
a tangle of interlocking limbs.

The Imperial army arrived with cannon which could smash a fort to
pieces as though it were made of blue china, but of what avail
were these against such yielding obstructions? Maddened that
these shambling creatures of the soil should delay the military
promenade through this little land, officers rushed out and held
their pistols at the heads of the offenders, threatening to blow their
brains out if they did not speedily clear the way. Many a peasant
did not live to see his house go up in flames--his dwelling dyed by
his own blood was now turned into a funeral pyre. These were the
first sacrificial offerings of Belgium on the altar of her
independence.

I now entered Vise, or rather what once had been the little city of
Vise. It was almost completely annihilated and its three thousand
inhabitants scattered. Through the mass of smoking ruins I
pushed, with the paving-stones still hot beneath my feet. Quite
unawares I ran full tilt into a group of soldiers, looking as ugly and
dirty as the ruins amongst which they were prowling.

The green-gray field-uniform is a remarkable piece of obliterative
coloration. I had seen it blend with grass and trees, but in this
instance it fitted in so well with the stones and debris they were
poking over that I was right amongst them without warning. They
straightened up with a sudden start and scowled at me. Hollanders