The publication of this little volume has for its object a better understanding of actual conditions, immediately following the invasion of a hostile army. The hope is indulged that the harrowing scenes witnessed by the author in Belgium, after the German invasion in 1914, may induce our own countrymen and women to more fully appreciate the blessings of peace. The events narrated are set forth as actually occurring, and—“with malice to none, with charity for all.” Any profits derived from its fa

The Superior of the Convent of the Daughters of Mary, Willebroeck, Province of Antwerp, Belgium, state by this present (letter) that the Sisters Mary Antonia and Mary Cecilia are sent to the United States in order to examine if there are means of establishing a colony (mission) of the Daughters of Mary there; she gives to Sister M. Antonia the power to act in her name as to taking the measures necessary to this effect. Approved:...

A merry group of Convent girls, in charge of Sister guardian, was seated in the shade of a huge old pear tree, discussing the joys and expectations of the approaching summer vacation. High are the walls enclosing this ancient cloister, and many are the gay young hearts protected and developed within its shady precincts. Bright are the faces and happy the hearts of more than one hundred young girls on this midsummer day in the memorable year 1914. They are now enjoying the morning air in the play

Every Tuesday afternoon, from one until about four o’clock, all the boarders, except the little ones, dressed in full uniform, go forth for a long walk with their teachers. They usually visit churches, shrines, or places of particular interest, thus developing the spiritual, mental and physical powers of the body. The uniform is quite becoming and attractive. It consists of a neat black dress, without showy trimmings or ornaments, black shoes and stockings, black hat, black silk gloves and neckt

The reverie into which the Sister had fallen was soon interrupted by the sound of children’s voices in the small playground. Hastily leaving the room, she went to meet the merry little band of day-scholars who attend the boarding-school from half-past eight in the morning until six o’clock in the evening. Joyfully the little group of twenty gathers around their mistress. One presents a flower which mother had given; another, a pretty postcard; yet another shows a toy or picture-book. A chubby li

Proceeding from the little Grotto of Lourdes, where the Sisters kneel in the evening for their “Drie Wees Gegroeten” (three Hail Marys), one passes through the large, stone-paved playground, over the small yard, and enters the corridor leading to the Chapel. Passing through the yard, we observe the Novitiate on the left. This may be considered the preparatory school of religious life. Here no one is received under the age of twenty-one, without full consent of parents or guardians. Immediately a

July’s sun sank gently away on the western horizon, and its last rays lit up the ripening fruit, the plants and flowers in the garden. It seemed to linger for a last farewell to the groups of merry children who, unconscious of their fast-approaching woe, were cheerfully singing Belgium’s well-known national song, “The Proud Flemish Lion.” In a few moments the “Golden Gate” closed on a field of purple haze, shutting out that blessed glimpse of heaven, while the black shroud of the most dismal nig

When our minds, bewildered by the unexpected course which affairs had taken, fully comprehended that the country was at war, a feeling of dismay and terror, never before experienced, took possession of all. Suitable measures were adopted for the safety of the children under our care, to whom the usual prizes were distributed on the first Sunday in August, a week before the ordinary time of vacation. Permission was also given them to return to their homes the following day. All necessary preparat

It is only when a common calamity, such as this, threatens not only the happiness, but also the very existence, of a whole nation, and the inundating tide of misfortune rises to the very doors of rich and poor, that the fountains of true Christian Charity spring open and lave with refreshing draughts the parched lips of the afflicted. The same burden that one bears on his shoulder is borne in the heart of another, who, while alleviating the wants of his neighbor, must think of his own approachin

After the fall of Liege and Namur, the destruction of Louvain and a number of noted cities, towns and villages, our minds were concerned with that awe-inspiring event—the advance of the enemy to Brussels. Well do we remember that beautiful summer evening, when our prayers and evening meditation in the chapel were disturbed for about an hour by the continuous whirl of automobiles passing the Convent. We were told that evening that it was the departure of the legislative body from Brussels to Antw

A little after four o’clock one afternoon, shortly before the departure of the first division of the Red Cross, our attention was attracted by the heavy and continuous tread of cavalry and soldiers passing along the street. It was the Belgian army returning from a long and tiresome march. Here was found a different kind of suffering from that which was ministered to in the hospital. Hunger and fatigue were stamped upon the countenance of each of these men, who, about a month before were industri

Early one morning, while passing through the yard, we heard what seemed to be peals of distant thunder. We looked around to see if a storm was approaching, but as the sun shone brightly and not a cloud was to be seen in the sky, we soon realized what this dismal sound implied. On entering the Convent, we found several of our members standing by the map of Belgium, tracing the route of portions of the German army then endeavoring to force their way through to Antwerp. The firing heard in the gard

While the aforesaid events were taking place, sorrowful scenes were witnessed along the streets. Our attention and sympathies were particularly attracted to the flight of the refugees. In this case we could give no material assistance, as we were able to do in other cases. For hours and days and weeks the doleful procession passed along the streets; a living stream made up of all ranks and classes of society. Here were seen the poor old farmer’s household, whose sons had gone to the front; and y

Centuries ago, when Attila, known in history as the “Scourge of God,” led his army of Huns through the fertile fields of Europe, we read that he gazed upon the ruin which he had caused his soldiers to perpetrate on all sides, and cried out, “I am the hammer of the world, the grass grows no more where my horse has trod.” Well may these same words be applied to the armed forces now dominating the devastated plains and meadows of what was once peaceful Belgium. When one passes through the masses of

Monday, September 28, witnessed the scenes of sorrow and desolation in and around Mechelen and vicinity described in the foregoing chapters. Many of the residents of Willebroeck had already taken flight, and the others were preparing to leave. The Sisters, wholly absorbed in their work for the wounded, and relying on the word of the Belgian officers, that timely warning would be given as to the necessity of departure, had as yet no idea of joining the throngs of refugees who continuously filed t

Shortly after leaving Boom, the sounds of war died out entirely, and one felt that there was at least one haven of safety in Belgium. About half-past one in the night we entered the Bassins, a station near the docks of Antwerp. We thanked the good “Chef” heartily and paid the station-master to accompany the party of five with a lantern to our destination. He did so, and on we walked the whole length of the Boulevard to the Palace of Justice. Antwerp, the chief port of Belgium, the center of the

Following is an extract from a letter which came to hand on March 15, 1915, from the four Sisters who remained in the Convent throughout the bombardment, two of whom are now in charge of the Belgian refugees in Bristol, England: “As you already know, perhaps, three of us remained in our Convent when all the rest had fled. Later in the afternoon we saw the Reverend Director and his sister step into the doctor’s automobile and whirl off to a place of safety. Soon they were out of danger for the ti

All the Sisters who had arrived at Antwerp met in conference several times during the week; but no final course of action could be decided upon, owing to the danger and uncertainty which, like dark, ominous clouds, cast a pall over the city and presaged disaster. One afternoon two of us called on His Eminence, Cardinal Mercier, Archbishop of Mechelen, who, since the bombardment of his city and the destruction of his residence, had remained at times in rooms near the Cathedral of Antwerp. His sta

One of the first things to attract attention, as we approached the city, was the double-decked street car. It was so strange to see the people sitting in those box-like cases, up on top of the car. From appearances, one would think this kind of conveyance in danger of tipping over at every turn of the street. A little before ten o’clock we steamed into Victoria Station, London, and immediately made our way to the office of the Relief Committee, who kindly exchanged our Belgian money for English

As a good and loving mother would receive her own weary, way-worn children, so did England and Holland open their arms to receive, console, assist and provide for the destitute, war-chased people of Belgium. These unfortunate refugees, the homeless and penniless exiles from a once free and happy country, have been welcomed to the shores of England with a true Christian charity and hospitality, which excites our admiration. The gates of her manors, the doors of her castles, the dwellings of her c

Saturday, October 31, at three o’clock in the afternoon, a mixed assembly met on the pier in Liverpool and gazed, with not a little apprehension, at the roily waters of the harbor and the ever-increasing clouds of mist. The St. Paul, while not one of the largest or most pretentious of the American steamers, is by no means the least. Nineteen years ago she passed us in mid-ocean, although she had left New York three days later than we. Her parlors, refectory, and even the berths, are exceedingly