days after the first _Lusitania_ note had been sent to Germany, "nobody
knows the day or the week or the month or the year--and we are caught on
this island, with no chance of escape, while the vast slaughter goes on
and seems just beginning, and the degradation of war goes on week by
week; and we live in hope that the United States will come in, as the
only chance to give us standing and influence when the reorganization of
the world must begin. (Beware of betraying the word 'hope'!) It has all
passed far beyond anybody's power to describe. I simply go on day by day
into unknown experiences and emotions, seeing nothing before me very
clearly and remembering only dimly what lies behind. I can see only one
proper thing: that all the world should fall to and hunt this wild beast
down.

"Two photographs of little Mollie[1] on my mantelpiece recall persons
and scenes and hopes unconnected with the war: few other things can.
Bless the baby, she couldn't guess what a sweet purpose she serves."

* * * * *

The sensations of most Americans in London during this crisis are almost
indescribable. Washington's failure promptly to meet the situation
affected them with astonishment and humiliation. Colonel House was
confident that war was impending, and for this reason he hurried his
preparations to leave England; he wished to be in the United States, at
the President's side, when the declaration was made. With this feeling
about Mr. Wilson, Colonel House received a fearful shock a day or two
after the _Lusitania_ had gone down: while walking in Piccadilly, he
caught a glimpse of one of the famous sandwich men, bearing a poster of
an afternoon newspaper. This glaring broadside bore the following
legend: "We are too proud to fight--Woodrow Wilson." The sight of that