The utterly helpless agitation of a population unable to do anything, seeing itself, without an hour's notice from the authorities, forced to surrender home after home, and forbidden to resist, was an inexpressibly painful sight, and cannot occur often, even in war. Undefended towns, when abandoned, generally have some warning. Here the enemy dropped out of the sky in an hour; and the peasants looked round to find their own army gone. There was not even the previous "working up" of a losing fight. A shout and a rush. A cyclist, red-flushed, raced into the square, brandishing a Uhlan helmet, picked up--who knows where? Another greater shouting and swarming, and two stout farmers rode in, leading four splendid Uhlan horses, Irish-bred, and full of mettle. Where did they come from? What did it all mean? Time may show. Waterloo, Thursday night. To-day's story is still unfinished. As the day wore on at Wavre, it became clear that Brussels was to be included in the general evacuation. The sound of the guns could be followed, as the Belgians fell back towards Antwerp. This was, then, no more a matter of "Uhlan-hunting," by withdrawal and encircling movement. The Prussians had penetrated too far, by surprise or with foreknowledge; the country was being evacuated. The horses of Uhlans captured were fresh, signifying no lost or wandering parties, but portions of a main column that had camped near. The troops, also, which we had seen were behaving quietly, not in the savage manner of the after-fight. They knew the country was clear of soldiers, and could take their time. To this, probably, we owed our own immunity at Gastouche. A column of some eight hundred horse could be seen with the glass moving over the hills south of Wavre. We heard that Louvain was being evacuated. About five o'clock we left the Civil Guard behind their railings, helpless and furious, and hurtled towards Brussels. To some twenty little patrols of cavalry and cars we gave the news. Their faces told me it was not the unexpected. Not a quiet run. Twice the distant "burr" of the aeroplanes, and we identified the German "Taube" machines over the woods. We turned east towards Jodoigne; to find the trenches empty, our army gone. An armoured car, packed with German infantry, flashed through a cross-road behind us. Once again a waving of arms checked us, and the peasants, half fearful, half excited, warned us of a wood ahead; but we rushed it without incident. So back to Brussels--to the close gathering of restless crowds under the lamps, the quick glance of suspicious eyes, and rumour, nervous, whispered rumour. The roads were crowded with fugitives with bundles, cows, and carts. The suburbs hummed uneasily. The evening papers were just appearing, announcing that "the situation is unchanged; the Germans are still along the Meuse"; while every third man on the road had seen them within fifteen miles, and the air had quivered with the approaching guns all day!