_Monday, August 3._


This is the second day of mobilization. A warm, cloudy day with
occasional showers. Thermometer, 20 degrees centigrade.

At six this morning Felicien, with a brown paper parcel containing a
day's rations consisting of cold roast beef, sandwiches, hard-boiled
eggs, bread, butter, and potato salad, walked off to the Gare St.
Lazare, which is his point of rendezvous indicated by the mobilization
paper. His young wife wept as if broken-hearted. Felicien, like all the
reservists, restrained his emotions. I shook him warmly by the hand and
said that I would surely see him again here within six months, and that
he would come home a victor. "Don't be afraid of that, sir!" was his
reply, and away he went.

I watched the looting of the Maggi milk shops near the Place des Ternes.
The marauders were youths from fifteen to eighteen years old, and seemed
to have no idea of the crimes they were committing. The Maggi is no
longer a German enterprise, and the stupid acts of these young ruffians
can only have the effect of depriving French mothers and infants of
much-needed milk. I bought a bicycle to-day at Peugeot's in the Avenue
of the Grande Armee, because it is hopeless to get cabs or motor-cabs.
While there, the shop was requisitioned by an officer, who took away
with him three hundred bicycles for the army.