Atlanta semi-weekly journal. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1898-1920, 1918-03-05
Continued Prom Last Issue)
(Third Installment)

HE 21st day of July is the Bel
gian national holiday and on
- that day a TIE Deum is always
sung at Ste. Gudule, in honor Of the
foundation of the dynasty. The whole
city was en- fete, the black, yellow
and red flag of Belgium-the old
flag of the Belgium which for one
short year at the time of the French
Revolution was a republic, Les Etats
Beige Unis, modelled after the young
United States of America-was fly
ing everywhere. The boulevards
were thronged and the old streets
of the lower town were filled with
the Brussels crowd that is at most
times so spontaneously, so almost
naively, gay. From early morning
long queues had stretched away
down the streets before the theaters,
that day opened freely to the pub
lie. The trains were crowded with
people seeking the shade Ollie Bots
de la Cambre, or la Forest de Soig
mes, or en- route to the great field at
Stocked. where the aviation meet was
in progress that week. There, too,
were great crowds in la Place de
Parvis, before Ste. Gudule, waiting
for a glimpse of the royal family.
Uniforms and decorations" the
minister of foreign affairs had said,
which meant for me the ordeal of
evening clothes in the bright glare
of noon day.
The old cathedral, or, to be more
exact, since Brussels is not the seat
of a bishopric, the old church (the
collegiate) of st. Michael and Ste.
Gudule, was crowded again for one
of those scenes it had been witness
ing for eight centuries. The soft
light that fell into the nave that
morning touched the brilliant uni
forms of the representatives OF the
army, the government, diplomatic
corps. There were judges in their
scarlet robes, and priests and Bis
hops in their sacerdotal garments;
there were tonsured monks, and here
and there the white robe of a Do
minican friar or the brown of a
Franciscan monk, his bare feet in
sandals. From the entrance to the
transept in the Trsurenberg there was
double hedge of grenadiers in their
tall bearskins, and a broad crimson
carpet that led up to the altar, and
at all the gray old pillars of nave
and transept there were trophies of
flags and banners. There was the
stir and rustic of happy throng,
elated by all that light and color, a
pleasant exhilaration, suppressed to
a gravity by the place and the
scene; not only were all the person
alities of the town there, but there
were the mysterious presences of
those historic characters that in
other days had trailed their fleet
ing glories there.
We had taken our appointed
places in the choir, there were the
usual greetings, smiles, handclasps,
the customary gossip. Then sud-
denly the drums began to roll, the
trumpets blew and through the
lofty arches there rang a voice, in
a military command, hard, like steel.
Presenter armes!" present
arms!")
There was the sharp rattle of the
muskets as the grenadiers came to
present arms. And then the uni
sonant cry:
''Vive lie Roll" C"Long live the
King.")
Their majesties. accompanied by
their suites, came slowly forward
and up the steps into the choir,
pausing for the reverence at the
altar, then for the ceremonial bow
to the representative of the nations
of the world, then to the represen-
tatives of Belgium, and passed to the
thrones placed for them on the right
of the altar. The great organ began
to roll, the three priests at the altar,
in their gold chasubels, began to
chant the TIE Deum.
An Interesting Picture
The royal family made an inter
esting picture; the king. in the lieu
tenants uniform he always wears,
tall, broad-shOuldered, tanned some
what from his outing by the sea
they had just come from Ostend.
Behind the thick lenses of his pine
nez the kings intelligent eyes were
taking in the scene, noting who were
there; the queen, frail, delicate, with
the unconscious appeal of sweet girl
ish eyes, and the delicate, sensitive
mouth, had the three royal children
beside her, the two princes, Leopold
the Duke of Brabant, and Charles
the Count Of Flanders-grave, fair,
slender boys, in broad battiste col
lars and grey satin suits, and the
Princess Marie Jose, with her pretty
mischievous little face and elfish tan
gle of crisp, curling golden hair
the child that all the painters and
all the sculptors of Belgium have
portrayed over and over.
| stood there and watched that
most Interesting family, a very mod