This morning, Madame Benoist told us of these orders, and urged us to leave, and, for the sake of the children, as quickly as possible. The Germans are advancing rapidly. They are at Saint-Soupplets, she tells us. She kindly offers us a horse and carriage, saying that it is almost out of the question to take the train.

The trains crawl along at a snail's pace, gathering up everyone in their path. Refugees wait all along the track, and at the stations are jammed together pell-mell in the midst of all sorts of luggage and supplies.

The station at Esbly is to be closed and the hospital moved away.

We accept Madame Benoist's offer with gratitude, for we must make sure that the children are safe.

So we pack up hastily and load the carriage, which we have no small difficulty in finding, as it is haled in every direction by people who are trying to escape. Everyone is getting more and more distracted.

We start out without locking up anything, or even so much as closing the doors. We can't help feeling that we shall not go very far.

Before being bestowed on us, the horse has already made several trips and carried heavy loads. He is fagged out. After going a few steps, he falls on his knees. We manage to get him up. Will he start off again? Certainly not. He plants his feet firmly on the ground and puts up a most lively resistance. We can't make him budge an inch.

The English are blowing up, one by one, all the bridges around us, so as to cut off the advance of the Germans. After each explosion we begin to dread the next one. They shake the house and make the furniture slide around. The people living near these bridges all had to leave; the inhabitants of CondÉ are taking refuge on our plateau, where they can watch at a safe distance the masses of stone hurled violently into the air by the explosions.

The Couilly bridge is as yet only mined. The English will not blow it up until they have crossed to the other side, in case they are obliged to retreat.

Captain Simpson said that General Joffre's orders are to make a final stand at the Marne. His orders are explicit on this point. If our troops are forced back over the Marne, they will fall back to the Morin, but the enemy will not come that far, he adds.

This morning the English artillery placed batteries at the bottom and top of Justice Hill, commanding the town of Meaux. From the road-maker's cabin where they have established an observation post, likewise from the roof of an isolated house on the top of the hill, they sweep the plain and direct movements of troops. Road-maker Duchesne is invited by the English to look through their field-glasses, and as the weather is very clear, he sees the Germans arrive in close formation and in great numbers beyond Lizy, marching towards La FertÉ-sous-Jouarre.

Artillery and infantry are on the move. Some of the troops have halted and are camping. At this moment a loud booming of cannon is heard in the direction of May-en-Multien, Acy. But Duchesne cannot make out anything in that quarter, as it is in a valley cut off by the heights of Monthyon and Penchard.

In the direction of Trilbardou Chauconin, Neufmontiers, Penchard, he sees French troops coming up and taking positions.

Presently, at two o'clock, the artillery receives orders to start for the forest of Le Mans, in an attempt to check the Germans who are coming down the hill and advancing towards the forest. The German troops seen near Lizy are marching at this moment upon Mary, Germigny-l'EvÊque, Saint-Jean-les-deux-Jumeaux, Montceaux, Villemareuil, PierrelevÉe, on the way to Coulommiers.

English engineers continue to blow up bridges. Between three and four o'clock they blow up the bridges of Trilport, the railroad bridge, that of the State road, and likewise that between Moulins and Meaux.

The Cornillon bridge, over the canal, is mined.

The last inhabitants have left Meaux; they went by on the road at the same time as a detachment of infantry, falling back before the enemy.

As they go along they shout to us: "They have blown up the bridges behind us. The Germans are already at Trilport!"

"But," asks a woman, "isn't there any way of stopping them?"

A lieutenant who heard her question answers: "You might as well try to stop the waters of the sea. They pour in from everywhere—from every highway and byway and back-alley—a regular tidal wave. Unless some miracle happens they will be here by to-night."

It is impossible, even if we wished it, to leave by way of Esbly. There are no more trains! Impossible to leave on foot—the roads are choked with troops and supplies. Moreover, all the bridges are destroyed, the bridge of Lagny along with the rest. So we shall stay. God be merciful to us!

There is no more mail—not the slightest communication with the outside. We are completely cut off from the rest of the world.

The new English General Staff has taken up headquarters at the chÂteau of Quincy. The English are camping along State road number 36, between Quincy and Voisins.

The roar of the cannon is coming nearer and nearer. The sound electrifies me. I cannot keep still, but go back and forth from Quincy to Esbly to get news, and more especially to try to send news to my brother. I seem to be the only human being on the roads.

What a feeling of sadness it gives one to go through these empty villages. Every house is like a tomb. But those who have gone did not take away everything. Their hearts and souls remain behind, keeping watch over all that memory holds dear.