The 4th of July was celebrated today. I suppose on account of its
being Sunday. There was a garden fête at a place called “Tivoli.”
The President was supposed to come; but of course he did not, nor
ever intended to, for as long as the U. S. will not recognize his
government, he will not recognize the U. S. national holiday. Mr.
Summerlin and Colonel Miller and all the high-hatted and uniformed
diplomats of various nations were waiting to receive him. Instead, the
press kodaks had to comfort themselves with the belated but smiling
Minister Pani of Foreign Affairs! With great ceremony they paraded
round the ground in procession and the band played every conceivable
Sousa March. I never realized how utterly unendurable civilized
American music is ... I mean, not to include the jazz and the coon
music, which has great character and charm. But there are things like
“Yankee-Doodle” that just make one curl up. With a fictitious attempt
at gaiety, I watched this celebration of the defeat of England. Dick
enjoyed it, he bought bags of confetti, and realized for the first time
the full joy of being able to throw handfulls of something straight in
a person’s face. It was a lovely game.