42 MRS. WOODROW WILSON
wife in Paris and how kind they had been to us, and he said: "Oh, I see; well, his wife is a fine woman and I am sure you enjoyed her."
Years passed and in the early part of the submarine tragedies of the World War this same man, his wife and daughter were passengers on the Sussex when it was torpedoed. The daughter was injured. Another daughter, married and living in Washington, appealed to me for information concerning her family. Mr Wilson sent personal messages for detailed reports of these particular passengers, and asked that everything possible be done for their relief. We kept the daughter in constant touch with them through the State Department. The girl was grateful and understanding. Not so the father. He sent a hostile cablegram to Mr. Wilson, demanding that Germany pay for its destruction of American life.
Now to go back to the dinner in Paris. What Mr. X. said about Woodrow Wilson interested me, and I have always wondered why. I had no interest in Princeton, and little interest in whoever might be President of the United States. Permanent residents of Washington, who are not in politics, are likely to acquire that rather unusual state of mind. Having seen a number of Presidents—at a distance, of course—I did not have the interest that would be normal to a person living in a part of the country where a President is a rare sight. Still, as I say, I was sufficiently stirred by Mr. X.'s recital to recall the one and only time I had ever laid eyes on Woodrow Wilson.
It was in Philadelphia, I think, in the year 1909. My sister, two friends and I were staying at the Bellevue-Stratford for a few days. As we left the dining room after dinner one evening, the hotel manager had bowed to us, saying: "I wonder if you ladies would be interested in looking in the ballroom for a few minutes. The president of Princeton University is addressing the alumni at a Princeton dinner. I cannot take you in, but you can look through the door." That was my first glimpse of Woodrow Wilson.