leaving for the palace the General asked Mr. Wyberg what he was carrying.  “Oh, only a trifle for the Kaiser!” was the reply.  The General was horrified, and tried to dissuade his friend from bringing the picture, telling him that the proper procedure was to ask through the Foreign Office or the American Embassy for the Emperor’s gracious acceptance of it.  Otherwise the Emperor would be annoyed, he would think badly of American manners, and so on.  Mr. Wyberg, however, was not to be deterred, and insisted that it would be “all right.”  While waiting in the reception-room for the Emperor, Mr. Wyberg unwrapped the picture and placed it leaning against the wall on a piano.  By and by the Emperor came in, and almost the first thing he said, after shaking hands, was to ask what the presence of the picture meant.  Mr. Wyberg explained that it was a mark of gratitude for the kindness the Emperor had shown his wife and children at Kiel.  The Emperor smiled, said it was a very kind thought, and willingly accepted the gift.  The story has a sequel.  A day or two after a Court official called at the hotel, to get from General Miles Mr. Wyberg’s initials, and after another few days had passed reappeared with a bulky parcel.  On being opened the parcel was found to consist of a large silver loving-cup, with Mr. Wyberg’s name chased upon it, and underneath the words, “From Wilhelm II.”

Another anecdote refers to an American naval attache, a favourite of the Emperor’s.  Dinner at the palace was over, and the attache, wishing to keep a memento of the occasion, took his large menu card and concealed it, as he thought, between his waistcoat and his shirt.  Unfortunately, when taking leave of the Emperor, the card slipped down and part of it became visible.  The Emperor’s quick eye immediately noticed it.  “Hallo!  H——­,” he exclaimed; “look out, your dickey’s coming down!” The story shows the Emperor’s acquaintance with English slang as well as his geniality.

The Emperor seems to take pleasure in displaying himself to Americans in as republican a light as possible, and when he desires the company of an American friend, stands on no sort of ceremony.  The American’s telephone bell may ring at any hour of the day or evening, and a voice is heard—­“Here royal palace.  His Majesty wishes to ask if the Herr So-and-So will come to the palace this evening for dinner.”  On one occasion this happened to Professor Burgess.  The telephone at the Hotel Adlon in Berlin rang up from Potsdam about six in the afternoon, and there was so little time for the Professor to catch his train that he was forced to finish his dressing en route.  Or the invitation may be for “a glass of beer” after dinner, about nine o’clock.