An officer of the Salvation Army tells us how the pretty town of Senlis fared at the hands of the Huns. When the Germans had been driven out of the town the Salvation Army officers entered it. They found the railway station gone, and scarcely a house along the whole line of march fit for habitation. Yet, in the middle of wrecked and ruined homes, they sometimes came across a house which had been untouched. On such houses was written in chalk, "Spare these people; they are good." Here is the story of Jean Bauer, keeper of the prison at Senlis. He was an Alsatian, and had been forced to serve in the hated German army. After his time was up he left Alsace for France, and chanced to visit Senlis. The town pleased him, and he remained in it. After a time he was placed in charge of the prison. It was a small lock-up, just a square brick building, with a large garden all round, in which he grew cabbages. He was a kindly man, and the few prisoners who came into his hands did not find their lot very hard. Then suddenly came the war. One morning Senlis was filled with the blue-coated, red-trousered soldiers of France. An hour or two later they had gone, marching northwards. Some days passed, and they returned, hurrying southwards, weary and worn, with ragged, soiled uniforms, some bleeding and bruised, but none dismayed. Then there was a lull, and breathless townsmen came hurrying to the mayor with the terrible news that the Germans were coming! The mayor and the curé bade the people be calm, and do nothing to resist or hamper the enemy. They listened to his words, and gave up their hidden guns. Soon afterwards sixty thousand Germans marched in, seized the mayor as a hostage, and for two days remained in the town, mingling with the people, playing with the children, and behaving themselves well. All this time there lay hidden in the attic of a house overlooking the main street six dusky sons of Algeria, soldiers of France, who had been trapped by the coming of the Germans. Their rifles were in their hands, and there was revenge in their hearts. There they lay, waiting for a chance to strike a blow against the enemy. The chance soon came. The Germans paraded one morning, ready for their southward march. The mayor was released; the word was given, and the blue-gray legions tramped through the streets. As the rear of the long columns passed the Algerians in the garret aimed their rifles and fired. Six loud reports were heard, followed by two shrieks of pain and two heavy thuds on the cobbled road below. "Halt!" The Germans turn and re-enter the town. The mayor is led out and shot; parties are told off to fire the place; petrol bombs are thrown into the houses; the railway station is destroyed; fierce flames spring up, and the smoke of burning homes rises to heaven. In a mile and a half of streets only three small cottages are spared.