We learned from Captain Simpson at Miss Aldrich's that German patrols had crossed the Marne in advance of the English. English aviators have seen them. Can it be that the horses we have been hearing for several nights back belong to these patrols? The soldiers of the King's Own Yorkshire Regiment mount guard until 6 P.M. in Voisins and also along the canal that joins the Marne to the Morin. At that time Captain Simpson suddenly receives marching orders and starts off at once in the direction of Crécy. The Yorkshiremen are promptly replaced by a regiment of Bedfordshire Light Infantry. General French and the English General Staff are at Villeneuve-le-Comte, it is said. Motorcycle messengers maintain communications between the various English corps that surround us. VII 3 September, 1914. SEVERAL days ago the hospitals near Meaux received orders to evacuate their wounded and equipment to Orléans. The last train-loads of wounded are to pass through Esbly to-day. So, in spite of our reluctance to leave, we shall have to make up our minds to it. This morning, Madame Benoist told us of these orders, and urged us to leave, and, for the sake of the children, as quickly as possible. The Germans are advancing rapidly. They are at Saint-Soupplets, she tells us. She kindly offers us a horse and carriage, saying that it is almost out of the question to take the train. The trains crawl along at a snail's pace, gathering up everyone in their path. Refugees wait all along the track, and at the stations are jammed together pell-mell in the midst of all sorts of luggage and supplies. The station at Esbly is to be closed and the hospital moved away. We accept Madame Benoist's offer with gratitude, for we must make sure that the children are safe. So we pack up hastily and load the carriage, which we have no small difficulty in finding, as it is haled in every direction by people who are trying to escape. Everyone is getting more and more distracted. We start out without locking up anything, or even so much as closing the doors. We can't help feeling that we shall not go very far. Before being bestowed on us, the horse has already made several trips and carried heavy loads. He is fagged out. After going a few steps, he falls on his knees. We manage to get him up. Will he start off again? Certainly not. He plants his feet firmly on the ground and puts up a most lively resistance. We can't make him budge an inch. The English are blowing up, one by one, all the bridges around us, so as to cut off the advance of the Germans. After each explosion we begin to dread the next one. They shake the house and make the furniture slide around. The people living near these bridges all had to leave; the inhabitants of Condé are taking refuge on our plateau, where they can watch at a safe distance the masses of stone hurled violently into the air by the explosions.