by a sentry.

Poor, wretched creatures! You are sorry for them. Why not put the
disorderly men into a house of confinement, too?

"Ah," says the commandant bluntly, "we find it easier and better
to send the disorderly men to jail or hospital in some near town.
We are easier with the women. I pity them. But they are full of
poison. We can't let them go loose in the camp for fear of infection."

How many of the roots of human nature are uncovered in a place like
this! The branches and the foliage and the blossoms, too, are seen
more clearly in this air where all things are necessarily open and
in common.

The men are generally less industrious than the women. But they
work willingly at the grading of roads and paths, the laying out
and planting of flower-beds, the construction of ornamental designs,
of doubtful taste but unquestionable sincerity.

You read the names which they have given to the different streets
and barracks, and the passageways between the cubicles, and you
understand the strong, instinctive love which binds them to their
native Belgium. "Antwerp Avenue," "Louvain Avenue," "Malines Street,"
"Liege Street," and streets bearing the names of many ruined towns
and villages of which you have never heard, but which are forever
dear to the hearts of these exiles. The names of the hero-king,
Albert, and of his brave consort, Queen Elizabeth, are honored by
inscriptions, and their pictures, cut from, newspapers, decorate
the schoolrooms and the little family cubicles.