Shoshone journal. [volume] (Shoshone, Idaho) 1884-1931, 1917-04-13
BY E. PHILLIPS oPPENHEIM.
Qn the New York WORLDLY


Somewhere In F'rance.-It was a
French train away from the battle
SCARED country. There was nothing
particular going on at the front, yet
we seemed to be continually shunted
for the passing of huge supply trains,
moving eternally In the other direc-
ton. When the morning twilight rolled
slowly away from the face OF the
country, leaving at first little clouds
of white mist lowering over the fresh
ly plowed fields, the sound OF the
guns was still in our ears. The face
of the country, however, had changed.
There were farmhouses to be seen,
some of them intact and apparently
prosperous, a chateau or two on the
hillsides, old men and women and
young girls at work in the fields.
We stopped at the station of some
small town and stretched out our
eager hands for the cups of hot coffee
and the rolls and butter wheeled
along the length of the platform. The
warmth of the coffee was like tails
man. My two companions thawed, as
did, under it's genial influence. Mon
sieur Poilu accepted a sip from my
flask and a cigarette with a grateful
little ejaculation. Madame, elderly,
in deep mourning a little shabby but
wonderfully neat, beamed content
upon us. The smoke did not incom-
mode her. AS for the flask-ah, well,
she took only coffee and little wine
and water herself, but nothing in the
world was too good for the brave
soldiers.
A German Peace.
Conversation blossomed out between
the two and flourished. At first l
barely listened. We were passing
through a marshy district which re-
minded me of home, little pools of
water, tall rushes moving in the
breeze, sedgy places from
which, at the sound of the shrill |
of our locomotive, a flight of
ducks rose hastily. Then I heard a
word behind me which in these days
stirs the blood. The word
was "Peacep l turned away from
the window and listened.
But, my son, have patience" the |
Did woman was saying. 81 speak |
who may speak, for l have lost a
husband and two sons. Yet 1 have
others fighting, and it is of them l
-hink. If indeed these Boches are
weary of fighting, if indeed it is peace
hey offer, why should not one at least
isten?"
The Poilu turned toward her. His
laversack, with its queer collection of
articles, was on the seat
" his side The mud of the trenches
vas thick upon his clothes. There
vas a weeks beard bristling upon his
hin. Yet his voice suddenly pro-
laimed him a man of some education.
Madame" he demanded, "who are
hey to offer peace as a gift, they
vho deliberately brought this war up
n the world? And what sort of
eace do you suppose is in their
minds? You have read the boastful,
rrogant words of their emperor's
eclaration? Is there anything there
f the humility of the wrongdoer, of
he man who wishes to restore what
e has stolen, to repair the greatest
yrongs which have ever stained the
ages of history? Peace, indeed,
There is no peace in their
carts" s
at Shall Be Belgian Peace"
Madame sighed. She felt herself no [
latch for this man in whom her 1
'ords had kindled sudden elo- I
uence. But in her heart there was 6
lie longing. y
"They are brutes and savages, my S
,n," she admitted, "and our people
ouid do well never to clasp again in