BRITISH AND BELGIAN KINGS MET BY ROADSIDE.

A LONG HANDSHAKE THE FIRST GREETING; THEN THEY DROVE ACROSS THE BELGIAN FRONTIER.

The London Daily Mail correspondent sends the following dispatch from Dunkirk, the date being omitted:

"There was a historic incident on the roadside in Flanders to-day when King George met King Albert. The King of the Belgians, as the host, was first at the rendezvous. He was dressed in his usual quiet uniform of dark blue.

"As he alighted from his motor and walked toward some old cottages here, he waited, and exchanged kindly words with some Belgian soldiers who came out of a neighboring inn to touch their hats to their monarch.

"Noon struck from an old clock tower near at hand, and a moment later a motor cyclist flying the Union Jack was buzzing along the road toward ——. Behind were three black limousine cars, all flying Union Jacks, and behind them was a second motor cyclist.

"The cars and cyclists stopped, and from the first motor came King George and the Prince of Wales with him. He wore a khaki uniform, with a scarlet band round his hat. He looked fit and well.

"The two kings moved forward with outstretched hands to greet each other there in the muddy road with none but a few officers, a few soldiers, and simple villagers looking on.

"Upon a canal barge on the water alongside the road a woman was hanging out her washing on the mainmast and boom. All she saw was two men shaking hands, but there was quiet earnestness about that greeting. The handshake was long and firm, and the accompanying smiles like those of men who meet on serious occasions.

"Their first talk was not long. After returning the salute of a soldier, who had come up close to look on, they entered King Albert's motor car and passed on over the frontier into the little remnant of Belgium that still remains out of the enemy's clutches.

"The two kings stayed a short time to review the troops, Belgian and others, drawn up in the village square, and then the monarchs drove on together to here. They dined and talked in friendly intimacy of the strange happenings that had befallen the kingdoms of both and of the great fights that have been fought."

Fifteen hundred British men and officers are in the base hospital at Boulogne suffering from frozen feet. Fully one thousand of this number must have one or both feet severed, owing to the deadening of the nerves, which makes futile all attempts at treatment. Chilblains and frostbites have been depleting the ranks worse than bullets and shrapnel, and once a man's foot is frozen he is through, as far as fighting is concerned, for the rest of the war.

Says one British officer now in the hospital: "From the time I arrived at the front, three weeks ago, until I arrived at the hospital last night, I have not been warm for one moment."

While the men are away at the war, the Women's Freedom League of London has formed a corps of policewomen for duty on the streets, at railway stations and in public parks. The women have organized under the name of "Women Police Volunteers."

The throne of Egypt is going begging. Great Britain and the native government are finding it impossible to induce any of the native princes to accept it. It is now proposed to make the country a separate kingdom, independent of Turkey.

One arms and ammunition company in this country is erecting a million-dollar building to supply the demand for its products created by the European war. This company has a contract that calls for the manufacture of fifteen hundred rifles per day.

Many of the Allied soldiers are in the hospitals "wounded without wounds." They have been so dazed by the shock of exploding shells that it was deemed best to invalid them for a while. In some cases the shells destroy a man's memory. One corporal was brought in who remembered his name and the events preceding the war, but has utterly forgotten anything subsequent to the mobilization. He even refused to believe a story of his own heroism.

The spy scare in London forced many innocent men out of the country. Adolph Boehm, who sold newspapers in Piccadilly for more than thirty years, was forced to flee unless he wished to stand trial for being a German spy.