No motor was waiting for us at Rosendaal, and we had a hard time getting shelter for the night. Finally we succeeded in getting a room for the two women in a little, third-rate hotel, and Jack and I slept on the floor of a sitting-room in the little Hotel Central. I was so dog-tired that I slept like a log, wrapped up in my fur coat. While we were having coffee, M. de Leval came up in my little car. He had been to Rotterdam in connection with the first shipment of food, and thought he would find me alone. He had bought a lot of gasoline in Breda, to be called for, so we could take no luggage. We found another car leaving for Brussels at noon, and loaded it up with Countess N., ---- Jack and the luggage, while M. de L. and I took A.B. and the mail bags, and started by way of Breda. We came through Aerschot and stopped for a stretch and to look about. We walked about the streets for a time, and stopped in a shop to ask for a drink of water. After giving it to us, the proprietor asked if we would like to see the state the Germans had left things in. He led us back into his living quarters, opened a door bearing an inscription to the effect that it was an officers' mess, and let us in. I never have seen a more complete mess. Everything in the place was smashed, and the whole room was filthy. The officers had left only a few days before and had taken pains to break everything before they went. Obscene remarks were chalked on the walls, and the pictures were improved with heavy attempts at fun. I always used to think that the term "officer and gentleman" was redundant, but now I begin to understand the need for it. The church was also in a bad state. The doors have nearly all been battered down. The wooden Gothic statues in the nave have been smashed or destroyed by fire. The altars and confessionals were wantonly destroyed. The collection boxes had been pried open and emptied. We were told that the holy-water font and the vestments of the priests had been profaned and befouled. It is not a pretty sight. Aerschot was partially destroyed on August 19th and 20th. The Germans claim that their commanding officer was shot by the son of the Burgomaster. The Belgians claim that he was struck by a stray bullet fired at random by one of his own men in the marketplace. However that may be, the whole place was instantly in an uproar, and quiet was not restored until the town had been sacked and over one hundred and fifty people killed, among them women and children. The Burgomaster and his son and a priest were among those shot and buried outside the Louvain gate. One of those taken to the place of execution was spared on condition that he should go to Louvain to tell of what had happened. Louvain has been cleaned up a lot, and we stopped there only long enough to have our passes examined at Headquarters, getting back a little before six to a warm welcome.