RUIN IN WAKE OF HUN IN FRANCE Nothing But Desolation Where Prosperous Villages Smiled. f # FLATTEN OUT EVEN SCRAPS One Can Motor for Hours in Region Now Known as British Front and See Nothing But Ruins of What Used to Be Human Habitations— People Hide in Cellars Lest Boche Shells Find Them Out. By FREDERIC WILLIAM WILE of the Vigiiantes. "Somewhere in France" —I never imagined in the wildest tlights of fan cy about war that to gain an objective under modern battle conditions an army has not to lay waste a position or a village but practically a country side. You can motor nowadays for hours in the region generally known as the British front, sweep the land scape for miles in every direction, and see nothing but ruins of what used to be human habitations. Your guides point to a scattered dump of brick, mortar, twisted timbers, indiscrimi nate rubbish of all sorts, lining either side of the roadway along .vhich you are spinning. Here and there at ir regular intervals the bare, charred re mains of what once were trees stick up from amid the debris and the chaos. There is not a suggestion of a standing wall anywhere, nor even of a door or window-frame, and, of course, no semblance of a roof. There are only cellars Into Miich houses, shops, 'churches, stores, schools —everything J- —have been thrown into a crazy hold all of a town-wide grave. "We are now going through ," remarks our military cliaperone, la conically, and we recognize the name of a place prominent in the fighting •during some important "push" weeks or months ago—now wiped from the !face of the earth as effectually as if honest French peasants and villagers 'had never striven through the genera tions to make a comfortable abode for 'themselves and theirs. One hopes that 'the ministering angels permitted them to evacuate the town before their homes were splintered and crushed by 15-inch death-dealers. One wonders how many human remains may still lie buried beneath the wreckage of beams ! and sandstone. One speculates 'whether men, women and children who contrived to escape the shells will Jever again be able to start life with their dwellings, places of business and cultivated fields mangled and devas tated. One Is persuaded that stupen jdous as Is the work of destruction 'wrought by twentieth century warfare, ; 'the task of reconstruction will be euormously more gigantic still. Towns that took years to make have been shot to pieces in an hour. Last Word in Perforation. I have heard of towns in our own wild and wooly West that have been ["shot-up." But is surely the ! last word in complete and scientific • jperforatiou. In July, 1014, it was a happy, thriving community of 35,000 or 40,000 inhabitants, a smiling town, iwith a wonderful Grand place and a picturesque Petit place, a noble Gothic cathedral and a splendid town hall. ißouud the Grand place ran a quad rangle of colonnaded houses of sur passing architectural beauty. For the rest, the towu was typically French, by which I mean a complex of neat stores and dwelling houses, churches and factories, schools and estaminets (cafes). Today there is not a solitary ibuilding of any kind in the whole town that is not entirely or partially wreck 'ed. There is not a single thing of wood, brick or stone that is intact. Not more than 1,500 or 2,000 people live there now, and they must hide in cellars most of the time, lest Boche jSliells search them out. Death lurks in every street, even though the Brit ish have held it for more than two years and have extended their lines beyond it considerably during the past j few months. Though they have long since turned the town into scraps of •its former self, the Germans seem tilled j with an insatiable lust to flatten out even the scraps. You walk through •the Grand place, hugging close to the walls by order of your army guide, in iperpetual danger that a souvenir from j Krupps will land at your feet and send j fragments of you Hying into the ■ethereal eternal. But you are only living the life that the British garrison ; aud indomitable little civilian rear guard of 1.5C0 or 2,000 people—mostly old men and women too fragile to seek a safer abode further behind the lines ' —are living day in and day out. Museum of German Savagery, r This thought occurred to me while isurveying the tumbleiVdown cathedral and mince-meated town hall and the limitless field of desolation and devas tation lying all around them at every turning: Why not keep it just as it is today, a pile of glorious ruins, as a world museum of German savagery? Why not leave it, stricken, battered and maimed m its every structural limb, just as we saw it this day three years after, for the admonition, horror and instruction of a universe which has rushed to arms for the overthrow of liberty's foe? There will be vast libraries of documentary evidence of the Huns' atrocities to educate and terrify posterity. But what are books ani descriptions and docxuuEntary proofs compared to such an ocular dem- onst ration us threatened to loose the tear-ducts of five prosaic American observers today? I was born and raised in an Indiana town very much like dozens of French towns which have been crushed be neath the merciless heel of the German i array. There are Illinois and lowa and Michigan and Wisconsin towns just j like them, too. I thought of those j towns this afternoon. I said to my self that if Essen's 17-inch murder guns could ever be planted within range of our own smiling Western communities, the kaiser and his Ger : mans would splinter them as gladly, as ruthlessly, as completely, as they have demolished this beautiful town. Pershing's men are here to help save France. But with every blow they ! strike to that noble end they are strik ing to save our own Arrases, Ba paumes and Peronnes from the fate which has overtaken France's La portes, Rockfords, Kenoshas, Daven ports and Battle Creeks. STARVED TOTS CARED FOR BY RED CROSS Story of Tragedy and Pathos in Struggle of Life in the War Arena. A cablegram received at the head quarters of the American Red Cross iu Washington brought another human in terest story of tragedy and pathos in the child life of the French and Bel gian' war areas. "Six hundred find fifty underfed chil dren, travel-worn after three days in a closed train coming from Belgian prov inces," says the cablegram, "crossed the frontier last night and reached Evian at dawn. The morning blare of French trumpets met the children who, some too young to know their age, had traveled motherless and unac companied. They poured into the street crying 'Vive la France' and 'Vive la Belgique,' shaking hands with every bystander. "Trumpeters, like six Pied Pipers of Hamelin, led the dancing, shouting throng to the casino—all except a few sick children who were carried in American Red Cross ambulances. At the casino all received food; flags were distributed and songs were sung. Welcoming words were spoken by the mayor. Even the small children knew the words of 'Brabanconne' and the 'Marseillaise,' but some of them were so tired that they slept right through the music. "Next came baths, examination by an American Red Cross doctor; and then lunch and sleep. Tomorrow these children start for Longlandier, where the American Red Cross will house thousands of them—some orphans, oth ers pretubercular or needing better nourishment than was possible under the German rule from which they had ! come. "One little girl in the throng disem barking at Evian clutched four franc pieces in a pudgy fist. 'What are you going to do with them?' she was asked, i 'Buy paper to write to mamma,' was i the reply." Another cablegram received at Red Cross headquarters says that in a speech to the last trainload of repat-i ries, the mayor of Evian called par ticular attention to their gratitude to the American Red Cross for the splen did work it is doing in hospital care of sick children. The speech was instant ly responded to with shouts of "L'Amer ique vive nos allies." MEMENTO OF WORK IN SERBIAN HOSPITAL lip. tHi 1- • \ Miss Elizabeth Shelley of Washing ton has a memento of many months' work conducting with Mine. Slavko Grouitcli a children's hospital in a lit tle Serbian town in the early stage of the war. His name is Bogaljub, which is Slavic for God's love, and his chief ambition is to be a Boy Scout and an American citizen. Bogaljub is four years old, one of the few Serbian or phans allowed to depart from Serbia after the Austrian occupation. Clothing is Needed. The Red Cross society is informed that great quantities of clothing will be needed by the civilian population of war-stricken countries of Europe. Women who are not able because of home duties or physical disability to take up clerical work- siv urged to make garments for the noncombatant peoples of Belgium, France and Po land. WAR LEAVES MAN SIGHTLESS AND ARMLESS ■ Another Hero Brings to Victim Priceless Reward. ROMANCE OF THE TRENCHES Village Belle on Hearing of the Maim ing of Farmer Eoy Acquaintance Of fers to Marry Him— Care of Sight less and Armless Husband Splendid j Example of the Spirit of the Women of France. A "Metro" train pulled into the Alma station on the Champs Elysees line. It was nearly six o'clock and every seat was taken and the aisles were crowd ed. The crowd, as in the New York subway during rush hours, packed itself tightly around the side doors of the cars. A slender, fair-haired, well-dressed girl—not more than twenty years old — managed to burst through the knot of officers, fashionably gowned women and civilians who were jammed at the center Side door of the first-elass car. Behind her trailed a man wearing the unii'orrh of a French soldier. She held his sleeve clutched tightly in her hand, and he followed her with fumbling steps. No sooner had they < ntered than the train started, and the girl, still pulling the solVjier after, edged away from the door and to the nearest seats —there are cross seats like in railway ears in the Paris underground system. Two young women—clad in furs and silks, their blackened eyes, scarlet lips and crimsoned cheeks proclaiming ("hom of the demi-monde, were occupy ing the nearest seat. "Will you pleas ive your place to a mutile of the \ r?" said the fair haired girl, the soldier always at her heels. Instantly, as the crowded train stared with curious eyes, both women arose. The girl pushed her companion forward from out of the crowd and he sat down. She sat beside him. - When the soldier sat down one | could understand why the girl led him, i | and why he stumbled uncertainly. He ! was sightless, and the blue powder marks still staining his cheeks and forehead showed what had blinded him. And as he sat there one could see why the fair-haired girl had led him . by the sleeve. He had no hands! Both arms had been amputated just below the elbow. I Sorrows of Their Own. The crowd stared as crowds will ■rtare —some curiously, some feelingly, some dispassionately, for they had un dergone their own sorrows in this war, j others critically as they wondered who the beautiful, fair-haired girl might be and what was the name of the soldier liero. Nearly all had thought, when the ! qrirl entered the car with her compan ion, that she was an American, one of ; those engaged in war relief work and j attached to a hospital or home for the j blind, taking out a sightless man. Such sights are common in Paris; American | , sjirls and women take blinded and crip ; pled soldiers walking in the Bois de Bologne, in the Champs Elysees, in the ; ; Tuileries gardens. And they take j them to the outdoor terraces of the I cafes along the grande boulevards and i to theaters, too. But the perfect French uttered by llie fair-haired girl when she request ed the seat for her companion indicat ed clearly enough she was no Ameri can. She was French, born and bred. The soldier, a young, rugged, black haired figure, clad in the familiar ho- ' rizon-blue uniform of the French line regiments, wore the Croix de Guerre, with two palms and a star, the Me cJaille Militaire and the Cross of the Legion of Honor, pinned to his tunic. France has no other medals. He sat half facing her and the girl sat half facing toward him. He hudged her with the stump of the arm nearer her and she took it under her own arm. The soldier was plainly greatly fatigued and he leaned toward her, whispering something. Soldier and Bride. Apparently in answer to his request, she removed the horizon-blue kepi, with the gold numerals, "107," indicat- i ing the number of his regiment, on the front, and smoothed his shock of raven black hair. When his hat was removed j one could see a great V-shaped scar in the front of his scalp, where trepan ning had been resorted to for a frac tured skull. The girl kept the kepi in her lap and the tired soldier leaned his head ] on her shoulder. His eyeless face was close to her milky white throat. Then she turned her head toward him and kissed him lightly on the cheek. Not even the most brazenly curious ■ dared stare for a while after that, but the kiss had shown plainly enough that the couple were married. Then it came back to most of the passengers in the car who the soldier was and who his bride was. It was only a fortnight ago that the daily newspapers told of a beautiful girl proposing to and marry ing a soldier who was sightless, arm less and had undergone a trepanning operation for a fractured skull. The girl and the soldier had both been born and brought up in the same little town in Normandy. They had ' scarcely known one ojiother except in school; for while he was the son of a poor farmer, is L•. msmm 1 i J -r /. .| • ; ' H : : h I F M»sr-rm-tsfm 6* r _—:—■' '-ir ! '«l t SHOT IN HIS CELL Man Who Denounced America and Killed Marshal, Himself Killed. A man who told the police of Mai den, Mo., he was L. H. Wissmann of Havana, HI., was captured in a swamp near there by a posse of several hun dred men after he had shot and killed City Marshal R. S. St. Clair when ths marshal tried to arrest him for utter- Ing disloyal sentiments. A member of the posse that captured Wissmann shot and probably mortally wounded him in his cell In the jail here after his capture. Members of the posse say Wissmann was heard to remark a few days ago: "To with the Red Cross, the government and Wilson!" Maps showing the farms of this part of the country with the names of the owners and a list of their principal products were found in Wlssinann'a possession. BASUTOS SING PSALMS Africans Surprise Congregation of Noted Church in Paris. An odd spectacle was seen at the Oratoire in Paris recently. Twelvfi Basuto laborers stood before the al« tar and sang several Psalms in theii own language. They are part of ths contingent brought to France last Jan uary by the British authorities to work behind the front and were pay ing a visit to Paris, in charge of Lieu tenant Mabillo, son of a Swiss Protest* ant pastor, and a naturalized Afri cander. Pastor Shrlstol, who was a mission* ary in Basutoland for 25 years, wel« corned them at the Oratoire, and two of them replied in Basuto. NEW CAMOUFLAGE DISH "Agmomoto," Noted Japanese Chem ist Calls His Invention. War prices for foodstuffs will have no terrors for citizens of the United States if they adopt the "meat caraoth flage" invented by Dr. K. Ikeda, a Jap anese chemist of note. "Aginomoto," or "taste creation," tilfl brown men call 1L ; Yutaka Tanaka, a Japanese commer cial agent visiting in Denver, describes "aginomoto" as a preparation made mostly from the humble turnip. It is .manufactured in powder form and wwhen spread on any article of food It imparts a delicious meat flavor. This Judge Had a Heart. "She told me and the court clerti she was just eighteen years old, and I signed here," explained Peter P. Swartz of Colony, Okla., charged by his father-in-law, E. V. Upchurcb, of perjury in securing a license to man • the pretty daughter bf Upchurch. T1 • judge- took a look at the pretty bride and her young husband and decided their defense was enough to dismiss the case. Beavers Use Scarecrow. So troublesome have beavers become to the farmers along the Walla Walla river in Washington that one rancher erected a beaver "scarecrow," which was effective the first night. On the second night the beavers cut down the scarecrow and used it in their dam.