Roger de Leval, the 8-year-old son of our friend, practically broke off diplomatic relations with his father and mother because he was not allowed to be a Boy Scout. His father was at the Legation, his mother at the Red Cross, and he had to stay at home with his governess. He felt so badly about it that we had Monsieur de Leval register him as a B.S., and have him assigned to special duty at the Legation. He attends in full uniform and carries messages and papers from my room to the other offices and vice versa. When we go out he rides on the box with the chauffeur and salutes all the officers we pass. They are used to it now and return the salutes very gravely. The youngster now feels that he is really doing something, but is outraged because we go along. He wants to undertake some of the big missions alone. Princesse Charles de Ligne was in this morning. Her son, Prince Henri, head of that branch of the house, has enlisted as a private in the aviation corps. There seemed to be no way for him to have a commission at once, so he put his star of the Legion of Honor on his private's uniform and was off to the front yesterday. That's the spirit. Comtesse d'A---- was at their home in the Grand Duchy when war broke out. No news had been received from her, and her husband was worried sick. We got a message through via The Hague and got word back this morning that she was safe and well. I went up to tell him the good news. He was presiding over some sort of committee meeting, and the maid said I could not see him. I insisted that she should announce me and after some argument she did. As the door opened, the buzz subsided and she announced: "_Monsieur le Secretaire de la Legation d'Amerique_." There was a terrible cry of fear and the old Count came running out white as a sheet. Before he had come in sight I called out, "_Les nouvelles sont bonnes!_" The old chap collapsed on my shoulder and cried like a baby, saying over and over: "_J'etais si inquiet: j'etais si inquiet!_" He soon pulled himself together and showed me out to the car with the honours of war. We send and receive hundreds of telegrams of inquiry and shoot them through in a perfectly routine way. It is only now and then that we come to a realising sense of the human side of it all.