chicory that we call endive in New York restaurants? There were piles
of it in the Brussels market and on the hucksters' carts; nothing so
cheap!

One might have excellent steaks and roasts and delicious veal; for
the heifers were being butchered as the Germans had taken all
fodder. But the bread was the Commission's brown, which everyone
had to eat. Belgium, growing quality on scanty acres with intensive
farming, had food luxuries but not the staff of life.

I looked out of the windows on to the square which four months
before I had seen crowded with people bedecked with the Allies'
colours and eagerly buying the latest editions containing the
communiqués of hollow optimism. No flag in sight now except a
German flag flying over the station! But small revenges may be
enjoyed. A German soldier tried to jump on the tail of a cart driven by
a Belgian, but the Belgian whipped up his horse and the German fell
off on to the pavement, whilst the cart sped around a corner.

Out of the station came a score of German soldiers returning from the
trenches, on their way to barracks to regain strength in order that they
could bear the ordeal of standing in icy water again. They were not
the kind exhibited on Press tours to illustrate the "vigour of our
indomitable army." Eyelids drooped over hollow eye-sockets; sore,
numbed feet moved like feet which are asleep in their vain effort to
keep step. Sensitiveness to surroundings, almost to existence,
seemed to have been lost.

One was a corporal, young, tall, and full-bearded. He might have
been handsome if he had not been so haggard. He gave the lead to