I spoke of the League of Nations, and how it could never be a real League without America, and that America’s greatness would never be true unless she helped the whole world; in fact, I just spoke out. I would have understood had they said: “This woman talks too freely; we don’t want to hear any more of what she has got to say.” I would have understood that; but they didn’t do that. After my first two speeches we got wires from all over America, from all kinds of associations and people asking us to speak--business men, Chambers of Commerce, colleges, etc.--that’s the wonderful part of the whole thing. I dared speak of England and the League of Nations, and of the pity that America should not be in, and they still wanted to hear. I have always felt that not only are America’s laws Anglo-Saxon, but her ideals are Anglo-Saxon, and I have always felt, too, that until people from other countries brought better laws and higher ideals than my forefathers carried from this country, that those laws and those ideals would be accepted, and would govern and guide all those millions of people from other nations who came to America. For the sake of humanity, one would wish America to accept better laws and better ideals if she could find them. I don’t think she has found them yet. She may have improved them, but the background and bedrock are the same. Virginia did improve them, and I was reminded in Canada that Nova Scotia got her laws from the Virginians, who had improved them to suit a young country, and from these laws a great nation is springing. Let no one forget America’s greatness. She is very young compared to the Old World. She may seem precocious--young people generally are--but she cares about real things, and her heart is as big as her territory. Ask any one who goes there, and they nearly all tell the same story of generous hospitality and a great sense of friendliness. I, being American born of only stout Anglo-Saxon forefathers, would naturally always love the real America, but this time I loved her more than ever, for I saw that my thoughts about her were right, and I loved her for letting me speak of England--how she had suffered, how she fought, and how hopeless she was at ever speaking of herself. I told them that perhaps some of her greatness lay in her reticence. When you do right, you can afford to be reticent. It is only people who are doing wrong who need to be continually talking. I knew that though ten Englishmen were being killed in the war for every two overseas men, to read the papers one would have thought that only the overseas men were fighting. So much was it so, that the German-Americans tried to use it as a proof of England’s selfishness. She saved her own men, they said, and sent the overseas men into the worst places. You and I and the men themselves know better. It was England’s dauntless chivalry which made her give first place in her accounts of the battles to her gallant sons who came so far to help her.