'DEAR MADAM,-I beg pardon for having been so long without writing. I have been for seven weeks at Oxford and was very well used among them, but I have no great pleasure in any place.

'Please to let me know what money is necessary to pay what yet remains of my dear Mother's debts; for I expect to receive some in a short time. Be so kind as to write to me often, though I should sometimes omit it, for I have no greater pleasure than to hear from you. My respects to Kitty.

'August 9th, 1759.'

'I am,

'My Dear,

"Your obliged humble servant,
'SAM JOHNSON.

I am glad that twenty years later I have his assurance in his own hand that 'Lucy shows some tenderness.'

Lady Ritchie, who stayed with us for the celebration of the Johnson bicentenary in 1909, gives a beautiful description of Stowe House and its surroundings in her article on Anna Seward, 'Quills from the Swan of Lichfield,' which appeared in the CORNHILL for November 1909:

'The Cathedral stands serene and beautiful on its rising ground. It is a century older than Westminster Abbey itself; the quaint streets lead up to the Close and Johnson's market place, which can scarcely have changed since his own day. The Bishop's Palace dominates the green, among beautiful lights and shades and distant aspects. Near by broad waters reflect the banks across which Stowe House still stands among its cedar trees, and the gardens of rose and avenues of hollyhock, all seeming to point to the threefold spires of the Cathedral."

DOROTHEA CHARNWOOD.

548

LEONIE.

THIS is the story of Mdlle. Léonie Vanhoutte, who was recently decorated with the Cross of the Legion of Honour by Monsieur Tardieu, the French Minister of Public Works.

Tourcoing and Roubaix lay behind the front line for nearly four years, and many heroic inhabitants who performed deeds of valour from 1914 to 1918 have modestly returned to somewhat drab occupations in these busy manufacturing towns. Léonie Vanhoutte is one of many who, at the risk of their own lives, helped to convey valuable military information to the Allies, and to enable our soldiers to escape through Belgium and Holland and rejoin their armies in the field.

The first time the residents of this district came into contact with British soldiers was in August 1914, when British wounded came to the Red Cross hospitals. When the German armies arrived in Lille, the local French population did their best to enable British soldiers to escape, if they were fit to walk. The gangs of prisoners only spent a few days at Roubaix and Tourcoing and were then sent to Germany, but a few isolated prisoners who were wounded remained in the local hospitals. For the most part these were aviators who had crashed in the German lines. The local townsfolk formed secret societies in order to help these British prisoners. Their families had, however, to conform to the regulations imposed upon them by rationing, and thus in order to give some food to the half-starved prisoners many sacrifices were made from the scanty store of biscuits or milk allowed each day. Cupboards were turned out in order to supply old linen and clothing, and sports and sales of work were organised so as to obtain money to help the prisoners.

One of the earliest groups was formed at Roubaix. The Secretary was Monsieur U. Canchy of Tourcoing, and others were Reni Wibaux, Guillaume Severin and Léonie Vanhoutte, the heroine of this true narrative, a young woman of very modest disposition, who blushes quickly even now when asked to recount her adventures.

For some weeks in August and September 1914 she worked as a nurse at the improvised hospital at Roubaix which later was taken by the Germans. She retired from this work taking with her two precious souvenirs-her brassard and her official card to show that she was recognised as a hospital nurse. By this time it

was October 1914. Her brother, aged 28 years, had failed to escape in time from the oncoming German troops, and was desperately anxious, by some means or other, to cross the frontier and take his place in the French army. Léonie decided to help him to do this, and set out alone upon a journey in order to discover the route to Holland and liberty. She left her parents' home one cold morning at 5 A.M., but she had forgotten that no French inhabitant was allowed out in the streets until 6 A.M. A German soldier on guard stopped her, and asked: Where are you going?'

'To Mass,' Léonie replied.

'It's too early,' replied the soldier.

Léonie appealed to him and said, 'Do let me pass. I thought it was six o'clock, but my watch must have gained.' The German soldier looked at the open face of the girl, noted her brassard and then inspected her nurse's card.

'Go on, quickly,' he said.

She obeyed his advice and walked steadily over the Belgian frontier to Mouscron, and so to Ghent. It was a journey of fortyfive miles, and she had to walk all the way. Whenever she was stopped by German patrols on the road, she showed her card and said, 'I am going to see an aunt who is ill in the next village. Please let me pass, for I am afraid she is very near her end.' Her ingenuousness made the soldiers shrug their shoulders and let her go on. At Ghent some friends gave her the address of those persons who made it their business to help any who wished to travel to Holland. She consulted these secret agents, who told her that not only could they help her brother and herself to go by the underground route,' but that others too could be included in the party, only that it should not number more than five.

She therefore returned to Roubaix and found two Belgians and an Englishman ready to take the risks, but first she made them promise that, if they regained their own country safely, they would rejoin their military units. They kept their promise, and two of the party were killed later in the war. The story of this journey from Roubaix through to Flushing is told with great vivacity by M. Antoine Redier in his book 'La Guerre des Femmes.' M. Redier took part in the public meeting on February 27, 1927, when Léonie was decorated with the Cross of the Legion of Honour, and he then paid an eloquent tribute to her. He told how the men in the trenches fought without knowing what was passing behind the line, and how Mdlle. Vanhoutte twenty times crossed the whole of

Belgium. I must acknowledge my debt to M. Redier for much of the information contained in this story, and especially for details of her first adventurous journey with her brother and three other men.

They started out from their homes one by one and met in a street at Tourcoing at the end of which was the barrier marking the frontier between Belgium and France. The street was one of those typical monotonous suburban thoroughfares, so common on the outskirts of industrial towns in Northern France, with small brick houses on each side, and fields at the back crossed by hedges and footpaths. Under the shelter of the hedges the little party made their way in Indian file, thus evading the barrier, and reached Belgium by tracks that were not at the time guarded by the German invaders.

When they found themselves safely across the frontier in Belgium, they walked quickly to Mouscron, where they took tickets for a local train going to Courtrai. The conductor of the train, knowing that certain of his fellow countrymen might have good reasons for wishing not to be observed too closely by the German authorities, warned some of the passengers that, at the next station, a German policeman would come along the train to examine passports. Accordingly, when the train stopped at the station, Léonie and her party climbed out of their carriage and hid under the train on the track until the examiner of passports had passed through their carriage. Then they climbed back again.

At Courtrai they spent the night at a hotel where the manager was one of the brave band who undertook to make the secret road to liberty as safe as possible. After a good sleep and a substantial meal, they set out on the road again, for they had thirty miles to walk that day if they were to reach Ghent in the evening. All along the route, too, there were military posts. Before they reached these, Léonie went to houses near by, where the inhabitants were able to give her some information about the ways of those on guard, and possibly to suggest means of passing them without difficulty. For example, with some sentries it was quite safe to try the trick of dropping a matchbox whilst the sentry was examining the papers. The German, if he understood, would let the party pass, and then would pick up the box, which would contain money, for at that time many of the German soldiers were not above taking a bribe. If the guard obviously did not understand, Léonie would quietly pick up the matchbox as though she had dropped it by accident. She had some difficulty with her companions, who were rather clumsy in playing their part as peasants. They had to be warned

that the French method of salutation was different from that of the Flemish, and that certainly peasants did not walk with their hands behind their backs. After leaving Harlebeke, the party were given a lift by a peasant for five francs a head. Thus in the evening they reached the hostelry called 'La Ville d'Audenarde ' at Ghent, and were received by the innkeeper who was in the secret. They ate their supper in the café, which was crowded with civilians and soldiers, for experience was proving that safety from suspicion was most likely if they remained in the most crowded parts. This inn had been specially selected, because it had not only a back and a front entrance, but also a handy window on the first floor from which it was easy to climb out on to a roof and so escape, should the house be searched by the police.

The next day at dawn the five travellers took their places in a large farm wagon. They were hidden in the bales of straw and were warned that they must not on any account make any movement or utter a cry should the German soldiers at the sentry posts thrust their lances into the straw. Two other farm wagons were also loaded with straw. One was placed in front of the one containing the fugitives, and the other behind. The men in charge were pig merchants and were carrying straw to Bouchaute, the last village before the frontier.

The same tactics were adopted at each German post. The first wagon kept well in the front. The soldiers came up to it and thrust their lances into the bales. Then the chief wagoner, who was thoroughly accustomed to making the journey, went into the guard-room to sign the necessary papers and made jokes with the German soldiers. While he was doing this the wagon containing the fugitives came up, and the driver drove past the first wagon and stopped in front of it. He then also entered the guard-room and chatted with the Germans. When they all came out he presented the wagon that stood second in the line, which in fact had already been examined, as if it were his own. The other wagoner walked straight to the front wagon, started his team, and so carried off unharmed the party hiding among the straw. This system was so successful that not once on the journey were the fugitives touched by a German lance. Of course, when no one was in sight, they were allowed to put their heads out into the air so as to avoid complete suffocation from the dust and heat. Such was the journey which lasted from 9 o'clock in the morning until 6 o'clock in the evening, travelling across the flat part of Belgium on cobbled roads.