war (they don’t), but because for some reason, which nobody here understands, the President, having taken a stand, seems unable to do anything.

All this is a moderate interpretation of sorrowful public opinion here.  And the result will inevitably be that they will pay far less heed to anything we may hereafter say.  In fact men now say here every day that the American democracy has no opinion, can form no opinion, has no moral quality, and that the word of its President never gets as far as action even of the mildest form.  The atmosphere is very depressing.  And this feeling has apparently got beyond anybody’s control.  I’ve even heard this said:  “The voice of the United States is Mr. Wilson’s:  its actions are controlled by Mr. Bryan.”

So, you see, the war will go on a long long time.  So far as English opinion is concerned, the United States is useful to make ammunition and is now thought of chiefly in this connection.  Less and less attention is paid to what we say.  Even the American telegrams to the London papers have a languid tone.

Yet recent revelations have made it clearer than ever that the same qualities that the English accuse us of having are in them and that these qualities are directly to blame for this war.  I recall that when I was in Germany a few weeks, six years ago, I became convinced that Germany had prepared to fight England; I didn’t know when, but I did know that was what the war-machine had in mind.  Of course, I had no opportunities to find out anything in particular.  You were told practically that same thing by the Kaiser, before the war began.  “We are ready,” said he.  Of course the English feared it and Sir Edward put his whole life into his effort to prevent it.  The day the war began, he told me with tears that it seemed that his life had been wasted—­that his life work had gone for naught.—­Nobody could keep from wondering why England didn’t—­

(Here comes a parenthesis.  Word came to me a little while ago that a Zeppelin was on its way to London.  Such a remark doesn’t arouse much attention.  But just as I had finished the fifth line above this, Frank and Mrs. Page came in and challenged me to play a game of cards before we should go to bed.  We sat down, the cards were dealt, and bang! bang!—­with the deep note of an explosion.  A third, a fourth shot.  We went into the street.  There the Zeppelin was revealed by a searchlight—­sailing along.  I think it had probably dropped its bombs; but the aircraft guns were cracking away at it.  Some of them shot explosive projectiles to find the range.  Now and then one such explosive would almost reach the Zeppelin, but it was too high for them and it sailed away, the air guns doing their ineffectual best.  I couldn’t see whether airplanes were trying to shoot it or not.  The searchlight revealed the Zeppelin but nothing else.—­While we were watching this battle in the air, the maids came down from