It was not until two o'clock the next day that our train reached Bentheim, which is on the Dutch frontier. Our train did not pull up to the platform as usual, so all the passengers in turn had the pleasure of taking a three-foot leap. This was the German side, so our luggage had to be examined before we could pass over the Dutch frontier. There were only two ticket windows for nearly three thousand people, so we were wedged in like sardines. There were no porters to carry our hand luggage, so we had to hoist it on as best we could. A short ride brought us to the Dutch frontier, where we were all told to get down and have our luggage, even to our hand luggage, examined again. As we could not get any porters many of us refused to get down, with the plea that we were refugees and not tourists. When the custom officials saw that some of us stood firm, they boarded the train and examined our things in a superficial way. The more obedient, who did as they were told, fared badly by their obedience. There was such a mix-up inside that many came back minus valises, dress-suitcases, carry-alls, steamer coats, and even lost their seats in their coupés. The passengers were divided between Amsterdam, Rotterdam and The Hague. A large number of these were without steamer passage, but they were hurrying to Rotterdam determined to get something, even if it was steerage. There were plenty who had boarded our train without a dollar in their pockets beyond a railroad ticket to help them out, and they were trusting to good luck or what friendships they might make on the way for help. Many were loud in their praise of Mr. and Mrs. Gerard for the friendly advice and the financial aid they had been given by them. In spite of the hardships endured by the financial embarrassment, loss of trunks, lack of sleep, there was much humor and joviality, which is so valuable to the American people in difficult situations. It was after one o'clock when we reached Wassenaar, a small suburb of The Hague. The hotel had been originally built for a golf club. It was a large, red brick building, set in a beautiful garden with such wonderful flowers as only Holland can grow. Surrounded by this splendid wealth of scenery, it was hard to imagine ourselves in the midst of countries that might be racked and ruined by war. The next morning we visited the Palace of Peace, handsome but imposingly simple. As we looked upon its splendid rooms, decorated with pictures dedicated to peace, it seemed a blasphemy to God and man that such a building should remain if men are to fight out their differences with the cruel weapons of modern warfare. For a short time we abandoned these disquieting thoughts and visited some of the lovely Dutch shops, where we found a few inexpensive souvenirs for our friends who were anxiously awaiting us at home. We had our luncheon in a quaint Dutch restaurant where dainty sandwiches and Dutch cakes were served on the prettiest of Delft china.