TWELVE THOUSAND MILES 9 



station to Dover, at which place, amidst much con- 

 fusion, we embarked on a Channel boat for the crossing 

 to Ostend. The small boat was packed full to the 

 rails, and I found it my fate to stand up the entire 

 trip, which proved to be a rough one through a choppy 

 sea, with plenty of flying spray and a nice cold wind. 



The mad scramble to get off the boat at Ostend 

 could be possible only in Flanders, France, or Italy. 

 Small children in the crowd were nearly trampled 

 under foot. Elbows were jabbed into our ribs and 

 pet corns flattened out while we ran the gauntlet 

 through the customs and raced for our train. Over 

 Flanders fields and through towns made familiar to 

 the world by the World War swayed the little string 

 of cars, taking us to Brussels where I hoped to secure 

 permits for some special work in the Belgian Congo. 

 The Belgians are thrifty and hard-working and for 

 this reason their poverty is hard to see. WeU-kept 

 fields of grain, beautiful orchards, small herds, neat 

 looking houses, aU bespoke contentment and hid the 

 scars of many battles. Men on the train told of 

 horrors here and battles there, pointing out this place 

 and that. One asked me if I knew Mr. James Smith 

 who lived in Chicago. 



A kind old lady in our compartment insisted that 

 we help her eat a box of sandwiches which she had 

 brought along for the trip. Then she offered sugges- 

 tions for a stopping place in Brussels. I told her we 

 planned on staying at the Metropole, but she protested 

 that the prices there were beyond aU reason, teUing 

 us of a place where we could stay a week for what 

 one day would cost at tliis high-priced hotel. We 

 thanked her, but went to the Metropole just the same. 



