id="id00281">Needless to say, it must be paid for in cash, though the Board reserved the right to look after the village poor. In like manner, all the salt had been reserved for the army, and we were to be rationed to seventy-five grammes a week per person! It all sounded rather terrible, but when put into practice it was proved that the rations were very generous and no one had reason to complain.

By four o'clock the next morning there was a perpetual stream of farm carts down the road leading towards Chateau Thierry. I dressed and went to the stables where George and Leon were already harnessing. More than once I had a tight feeling in my throat as I patted the glossy backs of dear old Cesar and my lovely span.

The girls had decorated the carts with huge bunches of poppies, daisies and corn-flowers and in addition to these tri-color bouquets, a little branch of laurel was stuck up over each horse's bridle. There was a generous distribution of sugar, and each horse was kissed on the tip of his nose, and then the boys joined the procession on the highroad.

I watched them out of sight. "Shall we ever get through saying 'good-bye'? When will these departures cease?" thought I, as I turned from the gate. But I was given no time to muse, for a most amazing clamor arose from a gateway a little higher up the road, and glancing in that direction, I saw old father Poupard leading his horse and cart into the open. He was followed by his wife and daughter-in-law, two brawny peasant women, who were loudly lamenting the departure of their steed!

"No, no!" literally howled mother Poupard.

"This is the last straw! Both sons gone, and now our horse! Who's going to bring in our crop? The Lord is unjust."

"And brother's babies—poor motherless things—in an orphan asylum at
Epernay! How can we get to them now? Oh, no! Oh, no—" wailed Julia.

"Poupard!" exclaimed his wife, drying her tears on the corner of her apron and fixing her sharp blue eyes on her husband, "Poupard, no loitering! If they pay you for your horse, remember, no foolishness. You bustle back here with the money—we need you to help in the vineyard."

"This is no time for sprees," wept Julia.

"Father Poupard," admonished his irate mate, brandishing a spade,
"Father Poupard, mind what I say!"

And then in a more moderate tone, but which was distinctly audible some thirty yards away, "I've put a bottle into your lunch basket. You won't need to buy anything more."

There was a distinct emphasis on the word buy, which told me that mother Poupard, evidently accustomed to her husband's ways, had provided plentifully for his journey but had carefully emptied his pockets before he started.

I went back to my preserves, but as the day wore on the lack of all communication with the outside world began to prey on me. Towards four o'clock I took my bicycle and started down to Charly. A quarter of a mile from our gate, in front of the town hall, a mason had driven two huge posts, into the ground on either side of the road, and was swinging a heavy chain between them.

I looked askance at the schoolmaster who stood in the doorway surveying the work. He explained that he had received instructions to the effect that all passers-by unknown to this village were to be stopped and asked for their papers. The men and boys who remained were to take turns mounting guard, and thus to help to eradicate the circulation of spies. Two suspicious motors and a man on a bicycle had already been signaled. Should they appear and fail to produce their papers, immediate arrest would follow. Should they offer the slightest opposition or attempt escape, the sentinels had orders to shoot.

I enquired if it would be necessary for we to have a sauf-conduit, being bound for Charly, and possibly the station at Nogent, where I hoped that the soldiers of a passing train would throw me a newspaper.

Mr. Duguey replied that he would gladly present me with the first passport, and seemed wonderfully taken with my idea about the papers. He admitted that living in darkness was beginning to get on his nerves, too, and asked me, in case my plan should prove successful, if I would be willing to put it on the public sign board so all could see the news. I acquiesced willingly, and after he had asked a few questions as to names, age, characteristics and destination, he stamped the seal on my paper, and I departed.

At Charly the same preparations had been made, and two elderly men, leaning on their guns, smiled as I presented my paper for their inspection.

At the hotel, the proprietor had just returned after having waited nearly twenty-four hours in line to present his machines. All save one had been bought for the army. But with his double-seated taxi he promised to drive me to Soissons the following morning.

I continued my road, and reached Nogent to find that I was not alone in my idea about begging the papers. Several others from neighboring villages, so I heard, had already succeeded in obtaining a sheet, and had driven off hastily with their trophies. My proceeding was very simple. It consisted of crossing the rails to the up-train platform, to stand in line with the other women already assembled, there to wait like birds on a fence until a train coming from Paris passed by. Then as it whizzed through the station, we shouted in chorus, "Les journaux! Les jour-naux!"

It worked like magic. We had hardly been there two minutes when a train was signaled.

As it approached, we could see that engine and cars were decorated with garlands of flowers, and trailing vines, while such inscriptions as, "Train de Plaisir pour Berlin," and numerous caricatures had been chalked on the varnished sides of the carriages.

Our appeals were not in vain. With joyful shouts, the boys gladly threw us the papers which were welcomed like the rain of manna in the desert. I managed to collect two, L'Action Franfaise, and Le Bonnet Rouge.

Until others and fresher were procured, the Royalist and the
Revolutionary sheets hung side by side on the public sign board at
Villiers, proving that under the Third Republic, Liberte', Egalite',
Fraternite are not vain words.

The news of the violation of Luxembourg and Belgian territory created less sensation than one might have expected. In the circumstances news of any kind seemed a blessing.

There was still quite a gathering in front of the town hall when the first carts began to return from the revision. They were few and far between, compared with the double line that had driven past in the morning. My heart leapt with joy, as I saw George, driving Cesar, turn into the court.

"Too old, Madame," he said, his eyes shining. "Though still so game that they nearly kept him. He's reserved for a second call."

"And Florentin and Cognac?"

The boy put his hand into his pocket and held out a slip of paper. I took it and read, "Bon pour 1,200 francs, prix de 2 chevaux, etc."

"Well, thank God, we've got one left anyhow," thought I as I entered the hall. Just then the gate creaked and I could vaguely distinguish in the deepening twilight the forms of mother Poupard and Julia hurrying towards the stables. I followed.

"George! George!" called Julia.

"Well?" came the answer from within.

"George—where's the old man?" queried mother Poupard in excited tones.

"How do I know?"

"Was our horse taken? Can you tell us that?"