for an hour and a half in an upright position. My travelling companions, including my mother and a Norwegian woman going to Christiania, were more fortunate in this respect. We had breakfast at Weimar, and I could hardly think of this lovely Saxon city and the center of German culture, the home of Goethe and Schiller, being disturbed by war. The large station was crowded with soldiers watching for spies. As usual, one of the soldiers believed that I was a Russian, and he was surprised to find my passport identified me as an American. I should not have minded being thought a Russian if they had not looked upon the most unsuspected people of Russia as spies. We reached Erfurt, which is known as the garden of Germany, for its beautiful flowers. Here my mother introduced me to a handsome German boy, seventeen years old, who had volunteered and was hurrying to Kiel to be accepted into the navy. That day we counted thirty-two transports carrying German soldiers toward France, and it was only after I had seen them that I knew what German organization meant. In the baggage car was the cavalry--every man to his horse, and all had been instructed that consideration for horses came before themselves. The cannon and other field provision were on tracks, but I was told that the powder and dynamite was carried at night instead of in daytime. There were many automobiles with Red Cross doctors and officers accompanied by chauffeurs, who were to carry them into the enemy's country. Everywhere one met courage and enthusiasm. Essential marks showed printed in chalk on trains--"We shall eat our Christmas dinner in Paris" and "It is a short way from Berlin to Paris."