It is a great bore out here that everything is stolen. One can hardly
lay a thing down for an instant that it isn't taken. To-day my Thermos
flask in a leather case, in which I carry my lunch, was prigged from the
kitchen. Things like metal cups are stolen by the score, and everyone
begs! Even well-to-do people are always asking for something, and they
simply whine for tobacco. The fact is, I think, the English are giving
things away with their usual generosity and want of discrimination,
and--it is a horrid word--they are already pauperising a nice lot of
people. I can't help thinking that the thing is being run on wrong
lines. We should have given or lent what was necessary to the Belgian
Government, and let them undertake to provide for soldiers and refugees
through the proper channels. No lasting good ever came of gifts--every
child begs for cigarettes, and they begin smoking at five years old.

I often think of our poor at home, and wish I had a few sacks full of
things for them! I have not myself come across any instances of poverty
nearly as bad as I have seen in England. I understand from Dr. Joos and
other Belgians who know about these things that there is still a good
deal of money tucked away in this country. I hope there is, and we all
want to help the Belgians over a bad time, but it would be better and
more dignified for them to get it through their own Government.

I had tea with Lady Bagot the other day, and afterwards I had a chat
with Prince Francis at the English Mission. Another afternoon I went
down to the Kursaal Hotel for tea. The stuffy sitting-room there is
always filled with knickerbockered, leather-coated ladies and with
officers in dark blue uniform, who talk loudly and pat the barmaid's
cheeks. She seems to expect it; it is almost etiquette. A cup of bad
tea, some German trophies examined and discussed, and then I came away
with a "British" longing for skirts for my ladies, and for something