iding behind a lame
neutrality, that I had mistaken the cause for the effect. They all
turned and looked at me with fierce eyes. I think they were staggered
at this colossal utterance, for they gave up discussing, and "S" to "Z"
never had a chance to say anything. Then they adjourned to the
supper-room. After having eaten scalloped oysters and chicken salad, no
more questions were discussed.

I was asked to sing. I am afraid that I am only looked upon as a bird
on these mighty occasions. On the piano-stool I felt myself safe, and I
sang. In the middle of my song some heavy person leaning against a
shaky bookcase uprooted it, and it fell with a crash on the floor. I
halted midway in my song. People rushing in from the supper-room asked,
"What is the matter?" "Negative," answered Miss Loring, quick as
thought, at which they all laughed. Mr. Brooks, to cover the confusion,
said in a loud voice, "This is not the first time Madame Hegermann has
brought down the house." There was more laughter, and I sat down again
at the piano and sang "Tender and True," an exquisite song written by
Mrs. Lincoln about a young soldier killed during the war, who wore to
the last a knot of blue ribbon his sweetheart had given him.

M. de Schloezer is bubbling over with joy, for he has the famous
pianist, von Buelow, staying with him at the German Legation. He says
von Buelow is most amiable about playing, and plays whenever he is
asked. His technique is wonderful and perfect. The ladies in Washington
are wild over him, and figuratively throw themselves at his feet. He is
giving two concerts here, and everybody has taken tickets. M. de
Schloezer gave last evening one of his memorable dinners, followed by
music. I know two people who enjoyed it--Schloezer and myself. Schloezer
was going to ask Julian Sturgis, but Julian Sturgis had on some former
occasion crossed his legs and looked distrait or had shown in some such
trivial manner that he was bored, which so exasperated Schloezer that he
barred him out, and invited Mr. Bayard instead, who perhaps loved music
less, but showed no outward signs of boredom.

Von Buelow is not only a wonderful pianist, but a very clever man of the
world. He sent me a book written by Wagner about music and wrote on the
first page "_Voici un livre qui vous interessera. De la part du mari de
la femme de l'auteur_." Clever, isn't it? You know that Madame Wagner
is the daughter of Liszt. She ran away from von Buelow in