Williams said that some twenty-five years ago he had asked a Princeton college professor whether there was, in his opinion, any way of affecting current thought except through the pulpit or the press. The professor replied that there was the forum, and that, for his own part, he was fitting himself for the forum by a careful study of Demosthenes. Years passed, and Dr. Williams met the professor again and reminded him of his youthful conviction. “I haven’t changed my opinion,” said the Princetonian, “and only recently I had to brush up my Greek to enable me to refresh my recollection of some of the Philippics.” The Princeton professor was Woodrow Wilson. When I told this story to my wife, who was both my kindest and severest critic, she immediately secured and placed on my desk, without any comment, a translation of Demosthenes. Inspired by its perusal, I dared to face a great audience in Buffalo and deliver an opening address for the Liberty Loans. I said to Cummings: “Now, as President Wilson is returning to Europe, you, Homer, ought to be the Demosthenes of the Democratic Party.” Cummings took fire. “I believe I can do it,” he cried. He was the man for it. Physically big, with a commanding presence and a good delivery, his experience as a member of the Democratic National Committee, his campaigns for Mayor of Stamford and Senator from Connecticut, and his successful service as state’s attorney for Fairfield County in that state, had qualified him long since for brilliant public speaking, and latterly for public speaking of the denunciatory sort. We consulted Demosthenes. We analyzed the Fourth Philippic. Cummings’s eyes flashed, as he exclaimed: “I can do it! I can do it!” The opening was to be a vindication of the Democratic Party throughout the war and the subsequent peace negotiations: the peroration, a denunciation of the opposition. The question remained: what forum should be selected? We canvassed the possibilities: the Economic Club, of which I was then president, and a number of others. One by one, all were dismissed. Finally, it was decided to give a small dinner at the National Democratic Club on the evening of March 14th, and to follow that immediately by a large reception, at which the speech in its first form was to be delivered. This plan was carried to a successful conclusion, and what Cummings said that night was the basis or skeleton of his soon-famous speech at San Francisco. “The rest is history.” Meantime, my period at home was drawing to a close. I had written for the New York _Times_ “A Vision of the Red Cross After the War.” On March 7th, I received a cablegram from Henry P. Davison. It asked me to serve as delegate to the Conference at Cannes for the formation of the International League of Red Cross Societies. Mr. Taft and Jacob Schiff both gave me advice that matched my inclinations. On March 15th, the _Times_ published an interview giving my point of View in regard to this trip: