He asked me: "Do _you know_ that the ships of this line are really owned, in good faith, by Americans ?" "I'll answer your question," said I, "if I may then ask you one.
No, I don't know of my own knowledge.

Now, _do you know_ that they are _not_ owned by Americans ?" He had to confess that he, of his own knowledge, didn't know.
"Then," I said, "for the relief of us both, I pray you hurry up your prize court." When we'd got done quarrelling about ships and I started to go, he asked me how I liked Wordsworth's war poems.

"The best of all war poems," said he, "because they don't glorify war but have to do with its philosophy." Then he told me that some friend of his had just got out a little volume of these war poems selected from Wordsworth; "and I'm going to send you a copy." "Just in time," said I, "for I have a copy of 'The Life and Letters of John Hay'[23] that I'm sending to you." He's coming to dine with me in a night or two: he'll do anything but discuss our Note with me.

And he's the only member of the Government who, I think, would like to meet our views; and he can't.

To use the language of Lowell about the campaign of Governor Kent--these British are hell-bent on starving the Germans out, and neutrals have mighty few rights till that job's done.
The worst of it is that the job won't be done for a very long time.
I've been making a sort of systematic round of the Cabinet to see what these fellows think about things in general at this stage of the game.