hat every one was convulsed with laughter. Then I
showed my doves, which were pronounced "perfect darlings." My seven
dogs did their best to amuse us. The parrot ran after them and bit
their tails, which the dogs did not resent in the least.

Prince Friedrich Wilhelm of Prussia also dined with us--a very formal
dinner. He is rather serious for such a young man. He is tall and
thin, and in his high, buttoned-to-the-chin uniform he looks even
taller than he really is. He is very musical, and brought his violin
and several books of music. He only approves of Bach, Beethoven, and
Mozart in his severer moods. He likes Bach best of all. He plays very
correctly, one might say without a fault, but I have heard violinists
who play with more _brio_. He listened with kindness to a young Danish
girl who executed a dashing solo by Brahms divinely, and nodded his
head in approval when she had finished. The Prince was begged to play
several times, and he went through the entire _repertoire_ of sonatas
he had brought with him. The guests were immensely pleased, and the
_soiree_ was very successful.

His brother, Prince Joachim Albrecht, is also a very good musician,
but differs radically from Prince Wilhelm. He plays the violoncello
very well, and favors modern music. He composes ballads, and leads his
own regimental orchestra. He is as jolly and unconventional as his
brother is reserved and grave. When he dines with us he brings his
violoncello, and I accompany him on my piano. He composed two very
pretty and successful ballets, both given for charity. The first one
was danced by Frederikke and two other girls and three young officers.
It was called "_La Lecon de Danse_." On the top of the program,
instead of the English device, "_Honi soit qui mal y pense_," I put
"_Honi soit qui mal y danse_" in the same shield. Hardly any one in
the German audience saw the joke--nothing more than that it was a
_druckfehler_ (printer's error). The rehearsals were in my _salon_,
and we had great amusement over them. The second ballet was more
pretentious, and was danced in one of the largest theaters in Berlin.
It was called the "Enchanted Castle." A parvenu buys an ancestral
castle, and on his arrival there falls asleep in the great hall,
filled with the portraits of ancestors and knights in armor. The
ladies, in their old-fashioned dresses, step out from their frames,
and with the knights in armor move in a stately quadrille. After they
return to