the third time I’ve had to make such an humiliating explanation to Sir Edward.  It’s getting a little monotonous.  He’s getting tired, and so am I. They now deny at the Foreign Office that anything has been decided about Carden, and this meddling by us (as they look at it) will surely cause a delay and may even cause a change of purpose.

That’s the practical result of their leaking at Washington.  On a previous occasion they leaked the same way.  When I telegraphed a remonstrance, they telegraphed back to me that the leak had been here!  That was the end of it—­except that I had to explain to Sir Edward the best I could.  And about a lesser matter, I did the same thing a third time, in a conversation.  Three times this sort of thing has happened.—­On the other hand, the King’s Master of Ceremonies called on me on the President’s Birthday and requested for His Majesty that I send His Majesty’s congratulations.  Just ten days passed before a telegraphic answer came!  The very hour it came, I was myself making up an answer for the President that I was going to send, to save our face.

Now, I’m trying with all my might to do this job.  I spend all my time, all my ingenuity, all my money at it.  I have organized my staff as a sort of Cabinet.  We meet every day.  We go over everything conceivable that we may do or try to do.  We do good team work.  I am not sure but I doubt whether these secretaries have before been taken into just such a relation to their chief.  They are enthusiastic and ambitious and industrious and—­safe.  There’s no possibility of any leak.  We arrange our dinners with reference to the possibility of getting information and of carrying points.  Mrs. Page gives and accepts invitations with the same end in view.  We’re on the job to the very limit of our abilities.

     And I’ve got the Foreign Office in such a relation that they are
     frank and friendly. (I can’t keep ’em so, if this sort of thing
     goes on.)

Now the State Department seems (as it touches us) to be utterly chaotic—­silent when it ought to respond, loquacious when it ought to be silent.  There are questions that I have put to it at this Government’s request to which I can get no answer.

It’s hard to keep my staff enthusiastic under these conditions.  When I reached the Chancery this morning, they were in my room, with all the morning papers marked, on the table, eagerly discussing what we ought to do about this publication of my dispatch.  The enthusiasm and buoyancy were all gone out of them.  By their looks they said, “Oh! what’s the use of our bestirring ourselves to send news to Washington when they use it to embarrass us?”—­While we are thus at work, the only two communications from the Department to-day are two letters from two of the Secretaries about—­presenting “Democratic” ladies from Texas and Oklahoma at court!  And Bryan is now lecturing in