We Are Praying For Mr. Wilson

"WE ARE PRAYING FOR MR. WILSON".
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With three others of my party, I dropped into an Estaminet, (or "Estamint" as the British Tommy persists in calling it) in Albert the town of the double status of which I have told you one bright afternoon in September last. The hour was past the usual one for the French dejeuner and I was surprised to find that the old woman who presided over this little shop had not yet partaken of her noon-day meal, as that is one thing no Frenchman, or Frenchwoman, seems to ever fail to do. I therefore suggested that she tell me the prices of some of her goods and I would undertake to run the shop while she was having her "dejeuner". She accepted the proposition, and all I will say is that she lost no money through my management during her absence.
This old lady told me that she was over seventy years of age; that two of her sons and two of her grandsons had been killed in the present War, and that at that present moment, her faithful old husband, who had fought in the War of 1870, was out once more in his antiquated uniform with his old musket and bayonet, guarding the railroad.Albert is in the British War Zone, and I was surprised in looking out the open doorway, to see a familiar-looking Stetson hat, canvas leggings and beltless khaki uniform encasing the sturdy form of an American soldier passing by on the street outside. I hailed him, and I do not know which of us was the happier at hearing his own language and having an opportunity of speaking in good American-English again. My friend proved to be a member of the United States Engineer Corps, which afterwards became so famous in the counterattack of the Germans to recover the ground taken by General Byng in his drive with the tanks for Cambrai.
The soldier and I were just parting when the old lady returned to the shop, and whether it was the cordiality of our conversation, or some other reason, I know not, but she came over to me in a semi-confidential sort of way and said in a half whisper, "Monsieur, est vous American"? I replied, "Oui, Madame", and then putting her old brown hands upon my shoulders, looked wistfully into my eyes and said in a voice little louder than a whisper, but vibrating with expectancy and emotion, as if she could scarcely bear the truth of the anticipated reply, "And Monsieur, are the Americans here?" "Oui, Madame". "And will they fight?" Well I could not say in good French "You bet they will", but in more dignified, if less emphatic French, I said "They certainly will". Then, while the tears rolled down her aged face, she withdrew her arms from my shoulders, clasped her hands together, and looking up to Heaven cried in a voice shaking with emotion,"O, MONSIEUR, NOUS PRIONS POUR MONSIEUR WILSON".
And that is how the President of the United States appears to the people of France. He is a living person, he is "Monsieur Wilson" to them. I was in a Protestant Church on five different occasions when I heard the President of the United States prayed for by name, while the heads of other Nations, Allies of France, were commended to Heaven in their official titles. Only the President of the United States is personified, and I think this touching incident marvelously significant as expressing the inward feelings and relationship that exists between the two great Republics, the one an old country of culture, who did not hesitate to give of her best to establish freedom and liberty and help lay the foundation of the new America, and the other the young, powerful Republic of the United States of America now reciprocating with its own precious blood and treasure.
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I add the following when I know my audience and am sure it wont reach the press, as naturally I do not wish to appear as a self-advertiser by associating my name with that of the President.
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I had the distinguished honor of being received by the President after my return from France, when I was the joint bearer, with an old Princeton classmate of his, of a medal presented to him by a Committee of Verdun. I took advantage of the occasion to mention this Albert incident and the fact that I had heard him prayed for by name.
The President listened intently and seemed greatly touched, and leaning towards me he said: "Don't you see what a great responsibility rests upon me when the French people think of me like that?"Ladies and Gentlemen, I told the President that story because I thought he ought to hear it. No doubt he hears lots of the other kind, the critical, the faultfinding and the complaining. I felt this would do him good and perhaps bring some cheer to him in his heavy responsibilities, and I tell this to you so that you may know that the President realizes his responsibility, not only to his own people, but to the people of France, to whom he means so much and through whom the great Republic of the United States is personified to them.
I wish I had the President's permission to let the whole public know how he received this story, but not having it, I put you on your honor not to allow it to get into the newspapers. I think you will agree with me, however, that the Country is safe under the leadership of a man who recognizes and realizes his responsibility, and this personal experience convinced me, that whatever any of us might have felt before war was declared by the United States, we may now place implicit confidence in the President.