Sometimes, though, I wish I could learn something from it all. I wish I could understand some of the problems, and have a few convictions. As I sit here and ruminate in front of my open window I think of many things, in a kaleidoscopic way. It is the first time I have had leisure to think since I landed in America. I have heard so many varied opinions over here, and I just begin to wish I knew for example: whether the Soviet form of government is right, or even partly right, or on the right trail, and whether the majority of the world which condemns it, is wrong, or frightened, or sensible. I wish I knew if human nature on the whole is very grand and fine, or whether it is chiefly murky and ugly and very selfish. I wish I knew if there is such a thing as love, apart from maternal love, or whether it is all only passion. I wish I could make up my mind as to whether civilization is a very valuable evolution, or a very great curse. I wish I could decide whether I want to live in America, France or Russia, and whether I should like my immediate headquarters to be in New York or Washington. I wish I knew how much the people who are nice to me really like me, or how much I am a curiosity. I wish I knew whether I am happier than anyone else or happy at all. TUESDAY, APRIL 26, 1921. Alice Longworth fetched me a little after twelve (a piping hot day). We drove to the Senate. For about half an hour before lunch we sat in the gallery of the Senate Chamber. By strange chance a Senator called LaFollette was holding forth upon Ireland, and demanding that the government of the U. S. recognize the Irish Republic. It was strange to come to the Senate to hear home politics. I listened to censorious remarks on Great Britain and I felt that everyone was agreeing, both on the floor of the Senate as well as in the galleries. Senator LaFollette, with his gray hair standing on end, and his face pink with passion, left his desk, strode up and down, around and about, the while he shook a formidable finger at the empty seats around him. They were not entirely empty, however, for Senator Reed was listening with attention and approval. I had met Senator Reed at Mrs. McCormick’s party on Sunday night, and the subject of Ireland had arisen between us then. He told me he was contemplating a journey to Detroit to speak at a meeting for “Funds for Ireland.” I said to him that night: “If you are going to ask for funds for Ireland you must needs abuse Great Britain.” He answered that the one did not absolutely necessitate the other. But I surmised he only said it out of politeness to an Englishwoman. I feel I have met the anti-British wave at last. It is here--and it is in the Senate! But what can one say in self-defense about Ireland? Senator LaFollette reiterated all the arguments that were asserted in Moscow, and to which I could not answer a word. Such as the war having been fought to protect the small nations,