creatures to whom the United States and the ideals of the Fathers mean nothing?  Who think a German is as good as an Englishman?  Who have no particular aims or aspirations for our country and for democracy?  When T.R. was in the White House he surely was an active fellow.  He called us to exercise ourselves every morning.  He bawled “Patriotism” loudly.  We surely thought we were awake during those strenuous years.  Were we really awake or did we only look upon him and his antics as a sort of good show?  All that time Bryan was peace-a-footing and prince-of-peacing.  Now did he really have the minds of the people or did T.R.?

If we’ve really gone to sleep and if the United States stands for nothing but personal comfort and commercialism to our own people, what a job you and the patriotic men of your generation have cut out for you!

My own conviction (which I don’t set great store by) is that our isolation and prosperity have not gone so far in softening us as it seems.  They’ve gone a good way, no doubt; but I think that even the Jonesville people yet feel their Americanism.  What they need is—­leadership.  Their Congressmen are poor, timid, pork-barrel creatures.  Their governors are in training for the Senate.  The Vice-President reads no official literature of the war, “because then I might have a conviction about it and that wouldn’t be neutral.”  And so on.  If the people had a real leadership, I believe they’d wake up even in Jonesville.

Well, let’s let these things go for the moment.  How’s the Ambassador[33]?  And the Ambassador’s mother and sister?  They’re nice folks of whom and from whom I hear far too little.  Give ’em my love.  I don’t want you to rear a fighting family.  But these kids won’t and mustn’t grow up peace-cranks—­not that anybody objects to peace, but I do despise and distrust a crank, a crank about anything.  That’s the lesson we’ve got to learn from these troubled times.  First, let cranks alone—­the other side of the street is good enough for them.  Then, if they persist, I see nothing to do but to kill ’em, and that’s troublesome and inconvenient.

But, as I was saying, bless the babies.  I can’t begin to tell you how very much I long to see them, to make their acquaintance, to chuckle ’em and punch ’em and see ’em laugh, and to see just what sort of kids they be.

I’ve written you how in my opinion there’s no country in the world fit for a modern gentleman and man-of-character to live in except (1) the United States and (2) this island.  And this island is chiefly valuable for the breed of men—­the right stock.  They become more valuable to the world after they go away from home.  But the right blood’s here.  This island’s breed is the best there is.  An Englishman or a Scotchman is the best ancestor in this world, many as his shortcomings are.  Some Englishman asked me one night in what, I