in—­in season and out of season.  And there is no new reason—­only more reason of the same old sort—­why we should have come in now than there was why we should have come in a year ago.  I suspect that the pressure of the press and of public opinion really became too strong for him.  And, of course, the Peace-Dream blew up—­was torpedoed, mined, shot, captured, and killed.  I trust, too, much enlightenment will be furnished by the two Commissions now in Washington[56].  Yet it’s comical to think of the attitude of the poor old Department last September and its attitude now.  But thank God for it!  Every day now brings a confession of the blank idiocy of its former course and its long argument!  Never mind that, so long as we are now right.

     I have such a sense of relief that I almost feel that my job is now
     done.  Yet, I dare say, my most important work is still to come.

The more I try to reach some sort of rational judgment about the war, the more I find myself at sea.  It does look as if the very crisis is near.  And there can be no doubt now—­not even, I hope, in the United States—­about the necessity of a clear and decisive victory, nor about punishment.  All the devastation of Northern France, which outbarbarizes barbarism, all the ships sunk, including hospital ships, must be paid for; that’s all.  There’ll be famine in Europe whenever it end.  Not only must these destructions be paid for, but the Hohenzollerns and all they stand for must go.  Trust your Frenchman for that, if nobody else!

If Europe had the food wasted in the United States, it would make the difference between sustenance and famine.  By the way, the submarine has made every nation a danger zone except those few that have self-feeding continents, such as ours.  It can bring famine to any other kind of a country.

You are now out in the country again—­good.  Give Mollie my love and help her with the garden.  I envy you the fresh green things to eat.  Little Mollie, kiss her for granddaddy.  The Ambassador, I suppose, waxes even sturdier, and I’m glad to hear that A.W.P., Jr., is picking up.  Get him fed right at all costs.  If Frank stays at home and Ralph and his family come up, you’ll all have a fine summer.  We’ve the very first hint of summer we’ve had, and it’s cheerful to see the sky and to feel the sunshine.

     Affectionately,

     W.H.P.

     To Frank N. Doubleday

     American Embassy,

     London, May 3, 1917.

     DEAR EFFENDI: 

I aim this at you.  It may hit a German submarine.  But we’ve got to take our chances in these days of risk.  Your letter from the tropics—­a letter from you from any place is as scarce as peace!—­gave me a pleasant thrill and reminder of a previous state of existence, a long way back in the past.  I wonder if, on your side the ocean you are living