We had breakfast together, then went to the patriotic service at the American Church, where Dr. Shurtleff preached. The long-waited-for news of our actually going to war had rejoiced us all yesterday, but it was more thrilling than we ever could have imagined to drive past the big French Administration Buildings and see the Stars and Stripes waving with the other Allies' flags in the Easter sunshine! To be one of the Allies at last! To have our flag and the French flag flying side by side as they should be, to have our great country wake up and fight its own fight--it is not only Easter but Thanksgiving to-day. The American Church was full--men from the American Ambulance Service sat in uniform in the front rows and the church was decorated in flowers and flags. Dr. Shurtleff preached a fine sermon. He said that to lose life was to gain it, and that this war was fought that war should cease--that the world should know Christ's peace. A lovely primrose plant was waiting for us here. After all the cold and snow, flowers, especially the pink primrose, are heavenly. In the afternoon Mrs. Shurtleff came over to say that the pianist who was to play at Dr. Shurtleff's little Sunday evening meeting had been taken ill, and would I play. Fortunately I had given a short programme last Monday at the last meeting of a woman's club, so that I was glad to be able to fill in. I must tell you about last Monday. Not long ago I exchanged the little old upright that I have had all winter for a wonderful Pleyel (French make corresponding to Steinway). This piano seems to me to be the most wonderful instrument I ever heard, and I love it and pat it and dust it and play it, never tiring. It has saved my life these past weeks. Knowing that I have been playing more of late, Mrs. Baldwin asked me to play for the woman's club that I spoke of. I couldn't think of much to play, and of course I have no music with me, but I was glad to have something to make me practice, and I accepted. The club meets every Monday afternoon to sew and knit garments for the war orphans--Mrs. Cassette, a dear lady who used to live in Chicago, is the president, and when it was time for me to play, she made the announcement, and proceeded to enlarge on the Root family in general and grandfather in particular. She spoke of his influence during the Civil War, and of his and Uncle Fred's help in establishing good music in Chicago. She spoke beautifully and gave me an at-home sort of feeling to think of her knowing my relatives; but it was hard for me when she started speaking of me as the third generation, etc. After I had played I met a great many interesting people, among them the girl who wrote that little book of letters called "Mademoiselle Miss." Do you remember reading it with Mother at Bailey's last summer? The letters are full of imagination, and charming, as is Miss Dare herself. We went off in a corner together and talked over our experiences at a great rate.