Madame de H. and I again went to LiÉge early this morning about her passports. The hotels and cafÉs were just seething humanity, beds improvised in every corner, and I saw officers paying their hotel bills with cheques and notes. The poor proprietor blinked and swallowed hard for a moment and said nothing. The city was literally packed with troops going in all directions. Uhlans, chasseurs, artillery and the infantry, singing and executing that foolish-looking goose-step—it probably has its advantages, but at eight A. M. in the pouring rain it did appear ridiculous.

In the afternoon we took a walk into the country, following the railroad. The soldiers were working everywhere, putting up temporary buildings for any emergency. We saw one of those open dining halls—only three walls with a shed roof where a regiment can step out of a train to eat while another jumps quickly in and no time lost. We passed the lovely chÂteau of the Marquis de T. who is Minister Plenipotentiary from Costa Rica. Of course, this is neutral property and flies a neutral flag, but the place is filled with officers and, according to the maitre d'hotel, the wine cellar is undergoing a thorough inventory.