on the streets to hand out small alms to the begging women and children.  Many of the shops in town were closed and boarded up at the approach of the Prussians, but small hotel keepers, cafe proprietors, and tradesmen who had the nerve to remain and keep open are very well satisfied with the German invasion in one way, for they never made so much money before in their lives.  Most of the German soldiers garrisoned here have picked up a few useful words of French; all of them can, and do, call for wine, white or red, in the vernacular.  Moreover, they pay for all they [Transcriber:  original ‘them’] consume.  I was astonished to see even the detectives paying real money for what they drank.  Several tradesmen told me they had suffered chiefly at the hands of the French soldiers themselves, who had helped themselves freely to their stock before retreating, without paying, saying it was no use to leave good wine, for the Prussian swine.

I had not prowled around the Great Headquarters for many hours when the Secret Field Police, patrolling all the streets, showed signs of curiosity, and to forestall the orthodox arrest and march to headquarters (already experienced [Transcriber:  original ‘experience’] once, in Cologne) waited upon Lieut.  Col. von Hahnke, Military Commandant of the city, and secured immunity in the form of the Commandant’s signature on a scrap of paper stamped in purple ink with the Prussian eagle.  Commandant Hahnke, after expressing the opinion that it was good that American newspaper men were coming to Germany to see for themselves, and hoping that “the truth” was beginning to become known on the other side, courteously sent his Adjutant along to get me past the guard at the Great General Staff and introduce me to Major Nikolai, Chief of Division III.  B., in charge of newspaper correspondents and Military Attaches.  Here, however, the freedom of the American press came into hopeless, but humorous, collision with the Prussian militarism.

“Who are you?  What are you doing here?  How did you get here?” snapped the Prussian Major.  A kind letter of introduction from Ambassador Gerard, requesting “all possible courtesy and assistance from the authorities of the countries through which he may pass,” and emblazoned with the red seal of the United States of America, which had worked like magic on all previous occasions, had no effect on Major Nikolai.  Neither had a letter from the American Consul at Cologne, nor a letter of introduction to Gen. von Buelow, nor any one of a dozen other impressive documents produced in succession for his benefit.

“No foreign correspondents are permitted to be at the Great Headquarters.  None has been allowed to come here.  If we allow one to remain, fifty others will want to come, and we should be unable to keep an eye on all of them,” he explained.  “You must go back to Berlin at once.”