The Detroit times., 1914-09-22

In the long drawing rooms every
family portrait. has been slashed from
its giidsd frame. Every cabinet rified
OF tn treasures. hundreds OF books
torn page from page.
Amid piles Of broken furniture lie
sleeping rags hacked from old Turk
ish carpets. Dogs have been kennel
ed In the Louis XIV boudoir, the din
ing room Is ankle deep with shattered
glass and porcelain. the family chapel
has served as a shooting gallery. deb
ris makes the bedrooms impossible.
Heaps OF women's delicate clothing
IL strewn about or strung up for OBJ
scenity. In all the stately homes no
breakable thing Is left unbroken, no
valuable thing unruined, no sacred
thing unsacrifced.
The chateau IL the epitome Of wan.
ton, pitiless. disgusting destruction.
Rich and poor. gentle and simple.
we Belgians are paying the price to
protect Europe sighs the Cure.
Sowing the Tares.
"The emperor ID the enemy sowing
tares! II we are TO De a conquered
province will not all this pitiless de-
yastation make us hateful yassalsi
II Belgium Is TO remain Independent
will not this make Us hateful neigh
bors for q century,"
Heart-sick ! walked toward st.
Trond. the little town which Kom-
mandantur Blihoofer has "subdued"
ruthlessly. The Mobile stappen Is
crowded with dragons from the
Eighty-fifth. Eighty-eighth and Twen-
ty-sixth regiments.
In the shadow of the ancient
church. sacred to God and father.
land" are gathered the seized crops
and farm wagons OF the district. The
town Is ringed round with field pieces
guns crews lying ready. Motor
cars filled with soldiers facing four
ways. their rifles cooked. dash about
necessarily. II Is two weeks since the
nine hour cavalry battle ended In q
Prussian repulse There Is quiet now
In st. Trond. II is the peace Of War
saw.
est. Trond was rebel. was, you un-
derstand," boasts the Uhlan comman-
ders.
What Has Become Of the Men7
Today the population Is made w
OF women and children. No one seems
to know what has become Of the men
no one Will ever know. l am afraid.
A mile down the st. Trond road we
refugees pause that some may pray.
II was right here that five priests
were shot dead--an hostages (none OF
them young, whose lives we're forfeit
because peasants who had fowling
pieces did the Lexington and Con-
cord act. Just beyond lies the road
for Hongres where these peasants
made their last stand. The elm trees,
felled as a barricade by these citizen
sharpshooters, are hardly dead.
In the broad sunlit square Of Ton
gres troopers OF the Twelfth and Fiji
ty-second Brandenburg regiments
haggle over their loot. For Tongres
q. g. a fort). which has been place
OF defense since the days OF Caesar,
resisted invasion and was, for re-
prisal, given to shell and sack. To-
day no one may leave his or her
house without a military pass; no one
may light o candle after nightfall.
In the twilight the shattered streets
echo with the agonized sobbing Of
heart-broken women. The burghers
have been driven by Uhlans none
save their captors know where.
< 1882 90
"Halt!-or I fret"
Il IL the last sentinel on the way
Of sorrow. We stand submissively to
show our papers. Beyond, just two
miles away, rise the spires Of Mae
stricht In Holland.
We Refugees Reach Holland at Last.
A pearl gray evening mist shrouds
the stricken land. Only one little
mile now between US and safety. Men
and women Who have faced death with
fortitude walk on blinded by tears.
In the dusk we can see q spectral
barrier, lantern, and the tri-color Of
Queen Wilhelmina's delightful Hol-
land.
"Stand!--friends or enemies?"
The refugees voices answer.
Slowly, 80 slowly that the last sink
dowI exhausted, our sad little COM
pany crosses the frontier
My turn comes finally. The captain
of the barrier scans my American
passports. His glance meets mine
shrewdly.
"You are journalist" he accuses
gravely.
Enter Holland, but do not remain.
Our land, like yours, must be neutral.