The first town of importance we arrived at was Brandenburg, which stands on the Havel. Storks were flapping round in the meadows, and the old stone statue in the main street stared down on us as we flashed past, as if to ask: "Why this haste? From what are you flying?" But we had but scant attention to give either to him or that town, or to Plaue or Genthin. The blue sky clouded over, and by the time the spires of Magdeburg appeared on the horizon, the rain was coming down steadily. We had our first halt outside the city, for two officials did not seem at all inclined to let us into the town where formerly I had spent such merry days. However, our demon chauffeur was able to produce papers certifying that he was returning to Berlin, and we were allowed to proceed. We stopped awhile to buy some sailcloth, as our trunks were getting woefully wet on the top of the car. Then off we set once more, in pouring rain and a tearing wind, through flat and uninteresting country. As there was nothing special to look at, I could just sit still and enjoy the strange exhilaration of that wild drive--the steady pulsation of the magnificent car, which like some mythological monster ate up the long straight road, indifferent to the shrieking opposing wind and lashing rain. On, on, till gradually the furies grew weary, the gray gave place to gold, and the earth wore the "washed" look of a beautiful water-colour. The road was grand, and so open that there was no danger. The small towns took on a character all their own of Old World charm, and Baedeker recorded the fact that they were full of interest, but this had to be taken on trust. Brunswick made its own special appeal, though we saw little but old houses and the handsome façade of St. Catherine's. Onward we raced till away in the distance we saw Hannover, like a many-masted ship with its high chimneys and myriad lights. We kept up the pace, and at 9.15 pulled up in front of the Hotel Royal. I went in to know if the wire I had sent from Potsdam engaging rooms and a fresh automobile had arrived, but of course it had not. Then I returned to see about the dismounting of the luggage, and the girls stayed with me. A few people came to look on and became intensely interested. More joined, and we were soon the centre of a crowd. We imagined in time of war even a stray automobile must prove of account. We all laughed to find ourselves of such importance. Then up came a charming boy officer, who asked the chauffeur if he spoke German. "Ja wohl," was the laconic reply. "Are you German?" "Ja wohl." The certificates were produced, and the boy looked them over and handed them back pleasantly. "Have you seen enough?" I inquired, laughing. "Yes," he replied. "Excuse me;" and with a beautiful salute he disappeared in the crowd. But another officer had joined the girls. "Please come inside," he whispered, and when they were in the hall, he asked them if they were enemies, to their great amusement.