side the palace.

Policemen on bicycles dashed along Unter den Linden proclaiming the
joyful tidings. Imperial Chancellor Bethmann-Hollweg drove to the castle
to congratulate the Emperor on the victory and was enthusiastically
cheered along the way.

PEASANTS AND TOWNSPEOPLE FLEE

Following the fall of Liege came a number of sanguinary engagements in
northern Belgium; the unopposed occupation of Brussels on August 20, and
a four days' battle beginning on August 23, in which the Germans forced
back the French and British allies to the line of Noyon-LaFere across
the northern frontier of France. In the northern engagements the
Belgians gave a good account of themselves, but were everywhere forced
to give way before the innumerable hosts of the Kaiser, though not
without inflicting tremendous losses on the invaders.

The retirement of the civilian population before the advancing masses of
the German army was a pathetic spectacle. It was a flight in terror and
distress.

On Tuesday, August 18, the German troops surged down upon Tirlemont,
a town twenty miles southeast of Louvain, around which they had been
massing for some days, presumably by rail and motor cars. The stories
which had reached the inhabitants of Tirlemont of the happenings at
surrounding towns and villages had not added to their peace of mind,
and soon the moment for flight arrived. All kinds of civilians set out
towards Brussels and Ghent for refuge. At times the road was full of
carts bearing entire families, with pots and pans swaying and banging
against the sides as the vehicles bumped over the roadway. The younger
women, boys and menfolk who had been left in the towns and villages
fled on foot. Priests, officials and Red Cross helpers mingled with the
crowd. This stream of unfortunates uprooted from their homes was thus
described by an eyewitness:

"These masses of broken-hearted people moved silently
along, many weeping, few talking. With them they brought
a few of their possessions, as pathetically miscellaneous as
the effects one might seize in the panic haste of a hotel fire.
Ox wagons, bundles and babies on dog-drawn carts or on men's
backs, bicycles and handcarts laden with kitchen utensils, all
mingled with the human stream. Here were to be seen sewing
machines, beds, bedding, food, and there a little girl or boy
with some toy clasped uncomprehendingly in a dirty hand;
they also knew that danger threatened and that the