The brutal power which reigns at Berlin may drive the Belgians out
of Belgium by terror and oppression. But it cannot drive Belgium
out of the hearts of the Belgians. While they live their country
lives, and Albert is still their King.

But think of the unnatural conditions into which these thousands
of human beings--yes, and hundreds of thousands like them, torn
from their homes, uprooted, dispersed, impoverished--are forced by
this bitter, cruel war. Think of the cold and ruined hearthstones,
the scattered families, the shelterless children, the desolate and
broken hearts. This is what Germany has inflicted upon mankind in
order to realize her robber-dream!

Yet the City of Refuge, being human, has its bright spots and its
bits of compensation. Here is one, out of many.

The chief nurse, a young Dutch lady of charming face and manners,
serving as a volunteer under the sacred sign of the Red Cross,
comes in, one morning, to make her report to the commandant.

"Well," he says, disguising in his big voice of command the warm
admiration which he feels for the lady, "what is the trouble to-day?
Speak up."

"Nothing, sir," she answers calmly. "Everything is going on pretty
well. No new cases of measles--those in hospital improving. The
only thing that bothers me is the continual complaint about that
Mrs. Van Orley--you remember her, a thin, dark little person. She
is melancholy and morose, quarrels all the time, says some one has