WASHINGTON—As the veterans in their chairs lined up down by the band stand yesterday afternoon, and the Arthurdale Homesteader Quartette began their first songs, with the President sitting in his car directly in front of the platform on which the quartette stood, with every body else standing back of the wheel chairs, I could not help thinking of the prelude to "Bury the Dead". In that the three disabled veterans sat—the blind boy reading his Braille; the man without legs winding the wires for his popies; and another man making a raffia basket. Thus these men pass their days. Our sky was blue, the sun shone and for an hour I hope all our guests were amused by the girls in their quaint costumes, dancing with the boys, an old square dance called "Chase the Squirrel".

One hour of forgetfulness and then many, many gloomy hours stretch- into the future! I think the boys from St. Elizabeth's (the federal hospital for the insane) are the happiest after all, for they live in a dream world of their own and most of the time it is not an unhappy one.

Our son, James, arrived last evening and we had dinner in my husband's study, after which my husband and James had a long talk. James flew back to New York this morning but we got out for a ride at eight o'clock together first. Our wonderful weather still holds and it is most invigorating.

I worked at my desk all morning with some very interesting answers coming in to the query in my column as to what industrial leaders were thinking of as a solution to the unemployment problem.

An old friend of my father's, Mr. Franklin Bache, from near Philadelphia, brought some of his grandchildren to lunch with me. At four-thirty I go to a Garden Party for St. Thomas' church, and at five my husband speaks from the South Porch to the School Boys' Patrol and after that I go to a picnic on the Island in the Potomac which has been chosen as a memorial to President Theodore Roosevelt.