Though Belgium is a neutral state, living under the protection of the Great Powers of Europe, the Belgians are afraid that some day, if these Powers quarrel with each other and begin to fight, armies may march into their country and turn it once more into a battle-field; or perhaps one of the Powers may wish to take a part of Belgium, or some Belgian town, such as Antwerp, and rule over it. So this little kingdom must have an army to defend itself till some powerful nation comes to help it.

The Belgian force actually under arms consists of only about 40,000 soldiers, but it can be raised to 200,000, if there is a danger of war, by calling out the "reserves," or men who have been trained, but are no longer with their regiments. In order to keep up this force of 40,000 it is necessary to find about 13,000 new men each year. But the Belgians do not like to be soldiers, and it is very difficult to persuade them to join the army. Last year only 1,000 would do so, which seems very few for a country in which there are 7,000,000 people. It has been the same for years. So there is a law called the Conscription, by which the necessary numbers are forced to serve.

This is how they manage the conscription: in February of each year all the boys who become nineteen in that year must go and draw lots to decide which of them are to enter the army.

The drawing generally takes place in the Hotel de Ville of the chief town in the part of the country to which the boys belong. On the appointed day all the families in which there are sons liable to serve flock into the town, and a great crowd gathers outside the building. The lads who are to draw lots go in, and find some officials waiting for them. Each boy has to put his hand into the ballot-box and draw out a paper on which there is a number. Suppose there are 150 boys, and 50 are wanted for the army, then those who draw the 50 lowest numbers are those who have to serve. Each boy draws out his paper, and gives it to an official, who calls out the number. If it is a number above 50, he is free, and runs out shouting with joy; but if it is one of the lower numbers, he goes out sadly to tell his family that he has drawn a "bad" number.

While the drawing goes on, the fathers and mothers, brothers and sisters, and their friends, wait outside in the greatest anxiety. There are cheers and joyful greetings when a boy with a "good" number comes out, and groans of pity for those who have been unlucky. And when the drawing is done, and everyone knows his fate, they all go off to the public-houses. Those who have drawn lucky numbers get drunk from joy, while those who have to serve in the army try to forget their sorrow in drinking. Very often their families and friends do the same, and so it comes to pass that every February there are horrible scenes—men and women, boys and girls, reeling about the streets, shouting, singing, quarrelling, and behaving in the most disgraceful way. It is quite different from Germany, where every boy knows he must be trained to defend his country, and where almost everyone is proud of being a soldier.

If, however, the father of a boy who has drawn an unlucky number is rich enough to pay for another to take his place, he may do so. This system is called the Remplacement, and almost every father buys his son off if he can afford it. Many Belgians think this system unfair, and the officers of the army do not like it. Perhaps, before very long, there may be a change, and a new law made by which all boys will have to serve for a certain time. The Catholics have always been in favour of the Remplacement, while the Liberals have been against it. But it is said that the King wishes to abolish it, and try some new plan. So very likely the Catholics will give in, and there will be no more drawing of lots and buying off, but a system of universal service, which will be a very good thing for Belgium.

Though the trade of Belgium is very large indeed for the size of the country, the Belgians have no navy, and not many merchant-ships. But they have lately plunged into an adventure which may force them to have merchant-ships and men-of-war to defend them; for this small country has taken possession of a huge part of Central Africa, ever so many times bigger than Belgium itself.

About twenty-five years ago Leopold II., the present King of the Belgians, was made ruler over this part of Africa, which is called the Congo State, because of a magnificent river, the Congo, which flows through it. It was the Great Powers of Europe who made him ruler, and they made him promise that he would abolish slavery, allow all nations to trade freely there, and do all he could to civilize the natives. But after some time ugly stories began to reach Europe about what was being done by King Leopold's servants in that distant part of the world. The Congo is a country full of rich products, and it was said that the King was breaking his promises: that he was making heaps of money by forcing the natives to work as slaves, that all their lands were taken from them, that people were cruelly tortured, that whole villages were destroyed, that the soldiers hired by King Leopold were cannibals, and that he would not allow free trading.

There is no doubt whatever that the King was making a great deal of money, and that many shameful and wicked things were done in the Congo. The King never went there himself, but both he and his friends, who were also making money, said that the English (for it was the English who found most fault with him) were jealous, and that everything was going well. Nevertheless bad news kept arriving from the Congo, and many of the Belgians themselves became as angry as the English, and said something must be done to stop what was going on. At last the Belgian Parliament resolved that the only way to save the Congo was to make it a Belgian colony, and try if they could not govern it better than King Leopold.

So in the year 1908, after long debates and much curious bargaining between the King and his people, the Congo State became a Belgian colony. It remains to be seen whether they can govern it wisely, for as yet they have no experience in such matters. Few Belgians like to speak about the Congo. They shake their heads, and say it will cost a great deal of money, and bring danger to their country.

The scene when a ship sails from Antwerp for the Congo is unlike anything you will see at home. When a ship leaves an English port for India or the Colonies, the travellers go on board without any fuss, with perhaps a few private friends to see them off. But when a liner starts for the Congo, there is much excitement. A crowd assembles; flags fly; a band plays the Belgian National Anthem; hawkers go about selling photographs of le dÉpart pour le Congo; and a steam-tug, decorated with flags, and with a band of music playing, accompanies the liner some distance down the Scheldt. The Belgians, you see, are so fond of hoisting flags and hearing bands of music on every possible occasion that they can't help doing it even when there is really nothing to get excited about.

And now, having taken this peep at Belgium, we shall leave these adventurers sailing away to their Congo, and, hoping they will find wisdom to steer wisely (in more ways than one) and so avoid shipwreck, wish them bon voyage.