that he would "reluctantly yield" to my wishes,
but would appreciate my remaining at The Hague until a successor could
be found for the post. Of course I willingly agreed to this.

In December the name of this successor was cabled to me with
instructions to find out whether he would be acceptable to the Queen and
the Government of Holland. Her Majesty said that this gentleman would
certainly be persona grata, and I cabled to Washington to this effect.

Early in January a message came from the Secretary of State saying that,
as all was arranged except the final confirmation of the appointment, I
might feel free to leave at my convenience. Having cleaned up my work
and left everything in order for my successor (including the lease of my
house), I took ship from Flushing for England on January 15, 1917.

The voyage through the danger zone was uneventful. The visit to England
was unforgettable.

Everywhere I saw the evidences that Great Britain was at war, in
earnest, and resolved to "carry on" with her Allies until the victory of
a real peace was won.

Women and girls were at work in the railway stations, on the trams and
omnibuses, in the munition factories, in postal and telegraph service,
doing the tasks of men. We shall have to revise that phrase which speaks
of "the weaker sex."

By night London was

"Dark, dark, dark, irrecoverably dark."

But it was not still, nor terrified by the instant danger of Zeppelin
raids. Every time a German vulture passed over England dropping bolts of
indiscriminate death, it woke the heart of the people to a new impulse,
not of fear but of hot indignation.

By day the great city swarmed with eager life. Business was going on at
full swing, though not "as usual." Women were driving trucks, carrying
packages, running ticket-offices. Men in khaki outnumbered those in
civilian dress. Wounded soldiers hobbled cheerfully along the streets.
The parks were adorned with hospitals. Mrs. Pankhurst spoke from a
soap-box near the Marble Arch; not now for woman-suffrage--"That will
come," she said, "but the great thing to-day is to carry on the war to a
victory for freedom!"

Oxford--gray city of the golden dream, Learning's fairest and most
lovely seat in all the world--Oxford was transformed into a hospital for
the wounded, a training-camp for new soldiers, a nursery of noble
manhood equipped for the stern duties of war.

Every family that I knew was in grief for a dear one lost on