When they finally landed they
were quartered in a riding school with 150 others, where they all slept
on the tanbark. They had coffee for breakfast, and during the three days
they were there had a thick soup each day for dinner, and nothing more.
One day it was bean soup, one day peas, and the third day lentils. They
were finally transported to the interior of Morocco and assigned to the
barracks of the Foreign Legion, the members of which are now fighting in
France, and here they passed strange, uncomfortable, heart-breaking
days.
Finally, when summoned to deliver up his money, the man said: "I shall
telegraph this outrage to Berne."
"What, are you Swiss?" was the officer's surprised question.
"Yes."
"Well, keep your money," said the officer; and a few days later Mr. X.,
through the efforts of our State Department and our Minister to France,
was released and joined his wife in Switzerland. This story was told me
by the agonized grandmother, whose tears flowed fast at the thought of
the hardships to which her daughter's babies had been exposed.
And now come the Belgian refugees to us, a most pitiable band. French
Switzerland has the honor of beginning the movement which has made
possible the bringing to Switzerland and placing in hundreds of
households these innocent victims of this hideous war. In addition,
subscriptions have been opened in various papers, and thousands of
francs have been gathered and sent to this most unfortunate of nations.
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