There was a hugger-mugger of uniforms, of provision carts, and with ambulances—­it was a part of the wreckage and wastage of war; and to the onlookers, with the exaggeration, unconsciously, of the importance of the things close at hand and visible, it seemed terrible in its significance and an ominous reminder of 1870.

Really this was an inevitable part of a serious battle, not necessarily a retreat from a great disaster.

But more pitiful even than this drift back were scenes which followed.  As I turned back into the town I saw thousands of boys who had been called to the colors and had been brought up from the country to be sent forward to second lines of defense.

They were the reservists of the 1914 class, and many of them were shouting and singing, though here and there a white-faced boy tried to hide his tears as women from the crowd ran forward to embrace him.  These lads were keeping up their valor by noisy demonstrations; but, having seen the death carts pass, I could not bear to look into the faces of those little ones who are following their fathers to the guns.

Early next morning there was a thrill of anxiety in Amiens.  Reports had come through that the railway line had been cut between Boulogne and Abbeville.  There had been mysterious movements of regiments from the town barracks.  They had moved out of Amiens, and there was a strange quietude in the streets.  Hardly a man in uniform was to be seen in the places which had been filled with soldiers the day before.

Only a few people realized the actual significance of this.  How could they know that it was a part of the great plan to secure the safety of France?  How could they realize that the town itself would be saved from possible bombardment by this withdrawal of the troops to positions which would draw the Germans into the open?

The fighting on the Cambrai-Cateau line seems to have been more desperate even that the terrible actions at Mons and Charleroi.  It was when the British troops had to swing around to a more southerly line to guard the roads to Paris, that the enemy attacked in prodigious numbers, and their immense superiority in machine guns did terrible work among officers and men.

But on all sides, from the French officers, there is immense praise for the magnificent conduct of our troops, and in spite of all alarmist statements I am convinced from what I have heard that they have retired intact, keeping their lines together, and preventing their divisions from being broken and cut off.

The list of casualties must be very great, but if I can believe the evidence of my own eyes in such towns as Rouen, where the Red Cross hospitals are concentrated, they are not heavy enough to suggest anything like a great and irretrievable disaster.

DIEPPE, Sept. 3.—­Let me describe briefly the facts which I have learned of in the last five days.  When I escaped from Amiens, before the tunnel was broken up, and the Germans entered into possession of the town on Aug. 28, the front of the allied armies was in a crescent from Abbeville, south of Amiens on the wooded heights, and thence in an irregular line to south of Mezieres.  The British forces, under Sir John French, were at the left of the centre, supporting the heavy thrust-forward of the main German advance, while the right was commanded by Gen. Pau.