Evening journal., 1915-05-27
BY MILLIAM G. sMEPHERD.

United Press staff Correspondent.
Copyright 1915, by the-United Prossl
Copyright in Great Britain.)
HEADQUARTERS OF THE BRIT
ISH ARMY, NORTHERN FRANCE,
April 21.-CBy Mail to New York; --
I've spent parts of two days in what's
left of Belgium and / find that the
dream of the Belgians is to see their
king ride back into Brussels. Men
and women, boys and girls, merchants
and farmers talk and plan ana have
visions of the time when the King
comes home"
The Belgians that / have seen live
in the midst of the British troops and
their confidence in General French s
army is unlimited. Next 10 the Eng
lish the Belgians adore Americans.
They know that only few miles dis
tant from them are millions of Bel
gians who would be starving if It were
not for the American Belgian Relief
Commission.
i've told all my grandchildren, "
said an old woman to me- about the
Americans. They know the American
flag and they know Meester Wheel
lock, brand WhitlOck, American min
lister 10 Belgium.)
They have a flag and they have his
picture. When the king comes home
he will say, Thanks, very much to
Meester Wheetlock."
If it were not for a nearby hill
this old Belgian lady's shop would
have been riddied with rife bullets
and blown up by German shells long
ago. The German trenches are not
half a mile from her. Heavy English
guns nearby doomed many times as
we talked and German shells shrek
cd over the sheltering hill over US
and struck near the village a mile
behind us.
Across the road from madame's lit
tie crossroads country store is a farm.
house. / went over there for a glass
of milk. Four children crowded
around the Belgian farm woman as
she talked to me.
Il take care of the farm myself,
she said "The children help me
hut they are very little are they not.
They like better to take care OF Mees'
ter O'Reilly's grave out in the yard
They farm the flowers on it."
We trooped through the little house
to the back yard and there in the
midst of the black plOughed ground
was a huge mound of yellow wood
flowers. In the midst of them stood
a shining silvered glass vase and in
the vase we're fresh white flowers.
Private Patrick O'Reilly, Dublin
FuBileers, Killed in action" read the
lettering on the white wooden cross
"The children loved him." said the
woman. He was always playing anC
laughing and making funny souno'
like he thought we're French words
Only half a mile over there. behinC
the hill are the English trenches an'
Mr. O'Reilly used to have to go ther'
very often.
But one morning when the soldiers
came back from in front of the bill
along the road that passes in from
of our house, Mr.. O'Reilly WASH
with them. Pretty soon other mel
came from the trenches and they wer
carrying men on stretchers.
"'Where is Mr.. OReilly,' l RAJ
out and asked them.
"'He's on that stretcher,' said
soldier.
"Bring him into this house.
said. | started to run into the hous
for some cognac which is very goo
when a man is weak, but they stoppe
me and a soldier said NO use. MI
O'Reilly's dead
"They were going to bury hiT
somewhere nearby and / asked ther
TO make his grave out in our yarC
And so there it is. Well always tax
care of it."
Across the ploughed field, in tn
next little farm ! saw Belgian ma
and Belgian woman trudging acros
a field, drawing behind them a heav
roller with which they were forcin
the seeds into the ploughed eartl
They we're working like beasts.
Their horses have gone TO war,
said the farm woman beside me.
was later in the afternoon that
climbed the hill with an English off
Ger. From hiding place in its bro'
we could look down on two san
colored streaks that ran through Oh
green valley. They were the Englis
and German trenches. The rife fin
ing was scattered but constant Wit
our glasses we could see the back
Of the British soldiers: perhaps the