Panic-stricken refugees came hurrying in during the morning, and continued throughout the day to flood the city. Wherever they could find listeners, which was easy, they would tell the story of their night's experiences. One woman with her two daughters had spent the whole night in the cellar of their home. A shell had exploded in the kitchen. Had any of her family been injured? someone asked. "Yes, monsieur, the poor cat was dead." A stout gentleman, with a pointed grey beard was inconsolable because his "collection of little birds" had been left behind at the mercy of the Germans. This influx of frightened outsiders had a very baleful effect on the people of Liège itself. Naturally the discussion of the number of killed and wounded on both sides was the principal topic. Motors carrying wounded soon began to arrive. These stopped before the hotels or establishments which had been turned into improvised hospitals. "Fifteen beds ready," "Ten beds for wounded here," were signs posted on the doors of many houses. The news was soon current in the city that the fighting had ceased for the moment. There was to be a conference with the Germans. The Palace of Liège was now the centre of attraction. "The Germans demanded the immediate surrender of the forts and the city." "The Belgians had asked for twenty-four hours in which to consider this proposal." "The Germans refused, and threatened to bombard the city at once." These and a dozen other rumours ran through the crowds. Suddenly a loud explosion set every heart thumping. "Had the bombardment commenced?" "No, the Belgian engineers had blown up the arches of the bridge." But as the afternoon wore on it became known that the Belgian commanders had refused to give up the city. The bombardment was to begin at six p.m. That was the last word I got. The last train out of the city was crowded with refugees fleeing with such little property as they could gather together. The scenes were pitiful in the extreme when the train pulled out. Never can one forget the expression of those left behind. And the scenes in the train! I carried a woman who must have been between eighty-five and ninety years old up the step of the vehicle and to a rude bench in a third-class carriage. A Sister of Mercy was her only attendant. Before we were half-way to Brussels a priest had given her extreme unction. Opposite me sits a man with four five-week old puppies and the mother in his lap. In the next car are herded a score of German prisoners. The helmets covered with cloth. The insignia gone. In order to understand the attack which the Belgians so gallantly repulsed during the early hours of the morning it is necessary to have some idea of the country south of Liège.