During August and September preceding the political campaign which resulted in Mr. McKinley's reelection I was in the United States. It was the hottest summer in very many years, and certainly, within my whole experience, there had been no torrid heat like that during my visits to Washington. Nearly every one seemed prostrated by it. Upon arriving at the Arlington Hotel, I found two old friends unnerved by the temperature, one of them not daring to risk a sunstroke by going to the train which would take him to his home in Chicago Retiring to one's room at night, even in the best-situated hotels, was like entering an oven. The leading official persons were generally absent, and those who remained seemed hardly capable of doing business. But there was one exception. Going to the White House to pay my respects to the President, I found him the one man in Washington perfectly cool, serene, and unaffected by the burning heat or by the pressure of public affairs. Although matters in Cuba, in Porto Rico, in the Philippines in China, and in the political campaign then going on must have been constantly in his mind, he had plenty of time, seemed to take trouble about nothing, and kept me in his office for a full hour, discussing calmly the various phases of the situation as they were affected by matters in Germany. His discussion of public affairs showed the same quiet insight and strength which I had recognized in him when we first met, in 1884, as delegates at the Chicago National Convention. One thing during this Washington interview struck me especially: I asked him if he was to make any addresses during the campaign; he answered: "No; several of my friends have urged me to do so, but I shall not. I intend to return to what seems to me the better policy of the earlier Presidents: the American people have my administration before them; they have ample material for judging it, and with them I shall silently leave the whole matter." He said this in a perfectly simple, quiet way, which showed that he meant what he said. At the time I regretted his decision; but it soon became clear that he was right. At the beginning of the year 1901 came the two-hundredth anniversary of the founding of the Prussian kingdom. Representatives of the other governments of the world appeared at court in full force; and, under instructions from the President, I tendered his congratulations and best wishes to the monarch, as follows: May it please Your Majesty: I am instructed by the President to present his hearty congratulations on this two-hundredth anniversary of the founding of the Kingdom of Prussia, and, with his congratulations, his best wishes for Your Majesty's health and happiness, as well as the health and happiness of the Royal Family, and his earnest hopes for the continued prosperity of Your Majesty's Kingdom and Empire.