Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1918-01-06
WAR WIDOW OF FRANCE
BY EUNICE TIETJENs.
Especial Correspondence OF The Sunday
Star and Chicago Daily Neyvs.)

PARIS, France. November 26.-"Henri.
Henri, come quickly. Some one
has come from your godfather in
| America"
Little fatherless Henri, eight years
small catapult from the tiny plot
of ground behind the house. His hands
were as grubby as a small boys should
be on Thursday afternoon-there is no
school Thursday in France-and his
eyes were two stars of curiosity.
Henri's godfather is T. K. Webster
Of the Webster Engineering Company
Of Chicago, whose own son. Henry
Henry Kitchell Webster his name is
the godchild, is one of the thousands
of French war orphans who have been
temporarily adopted by charitable peo-
pie in America.
With his widowed mother. his two
sisters and his small brother, Henri
lives in two-room board house just
outside the walls of Paris. Below it
is the moat, relic of the warfare of
other days. now dry and filled with
small vegetable gardens-Paris has
need of food and its battles are fought
elsewhere.
Henri's mother is type of the won
derfully courageous. wonderfully de-
voted French mother of today, the
woman who is struggling against
heavy odds to keep her family together
and make home for them. to guard
the precious next generation of France.
Her husband he was only thirty
three, went at the first call to arms
and she never saw him again. When
he had been gone four months her
youngest son was born.
oino oh har
eyes full of trouble, that Ernest never
saw his youngest son. I wrote him
and said I shall name the child after
you for shall not see you again. You
are dro1l,' he wrote back. But in three
weeks he was dead. hit in the mouth
by piece of shrapnel
Since then I'VE have lived as we
could. My oldest daughter. who Is
fifteen, helps me with the sewing We
make trousers for the soldiers. But
does not come and 1t will soon be win
ter. 1t is damp here and last winter
the dampneSS froZe in sheets on the
walls. We had no coal, of course.
But we shall get on. we shall get
on. 1t is healthy for the children here.
and little piece of ground for them
to play in. And their godparents from
America send them warm clothes and
money. They send more than that;
tney Send courage ana nope. We shall
get on"
Henri had been watching soIemnly.
Even fat piece of chocolate was
hardly enough to make up for his dis
appointment that the some one from
his mysterious godfather in America
was only an ordinary person, after all,
, with two eyes and a nose. just like
anybody else. Now he slipped out
quietly.
Suddenly the door opened again and
Henri. playing Jack-in- the-box, stuck
in a roguish face.
"BonJour, madame from America"
The door shut again in a gale of
childish laughter. Henris mother
sprang up. herself laughing like
child. She ran to the door, brandish-
ing broom in mock punishment, and
Henri scuttled giggling up the path.
His mother came back slowly, a lit
tie sheepishly.
I'VE play" she said. But what would
you? He is a child. And life must go
on" Her eyes were somber now, with
the quick change of the Latin tempera-
ment. Il have lost my Ernest We
were brought up together. We were
happy. But life must go on.
You see, France must always go on /"
And Henrfs mother spoke for all the
widows of France.