i went down the road toward verviers. i stopt at a farmhouse to talk with the farmer about the pitiful ration of the liége coal miners. they travel many miles underground, and there is no way of getting hot soup to them. his wife gave me a glass of sweet milk. then we went into the courtyard where he had a great caldron of prune syrup simmering.

the summer had been wet and gray, but september was doing her best to make up for it. suddenly i heard the soft whirr-whirr of a zeppelin. i ran out into the road. the farmer left his prunes to join me. we watched the [135]great strange thing gliding through the sunshine. it was flying so low that we could easily distinguish the fins, the gondolas, the propellers. it looked more than anything else like a gigantic, unearthly model for the little japanese stuffed fishes i had often seen in the toy shops. its blunt nose seemed shining white, the rest a soft gray. the effect of the soothing whirring and its slow gliding through the air was indescribable; that it could be anything but a gentle messenger of peace was unbelievable. “ah, madame,” said my companion, [136]“four years ago i saw my first zeppelin! it seemed a beautiful vision from another world, like something new in my religion. we all stood breathless, praying for the safety of this wonderful new being; praying that the brave men who conducted it might be spared to the world. and to-day, madame, may it be blown to atoms; if necessary may its men be cut to bits; may they be burned to ashes—anything—anything! with an undying hate i swear it shall be destroyed! madame, that is what war does to a man! war, madame, is a horrible thing!”