An invisible choir chanted to piano accompaniment during the first part of the program some sacred anthems; during the first two scenes of the second part, the “Prussian Battle Hymn,” and during the last scene, “God Save the Queen,” adding greatly to the scenic effect. After the curtain fell there was an interval of lively, friendly conversation, everybody commenting on the Panoramic Prelude and pronouncing it excellent, unique, inimitable. We were told that the Crown Princess, consulting with her governess, had herself selected the scenes, which were copies of well-known pictures in the Berlin Art Gallery, and managed their arrangement, declining the proffered services of some professional decorators. It was edifying to note the ill-concealed delight of the royal parents at the success of their daughter’s undertaking, every feature and action bespeaking that parental pride which, in prince or peasant, nabob or pauper, is more becoming than any human adornment. About half-past four o’clock a heavy portiere quietly opening displayed in an adjoining room a large, brilliantly-lighted, artistically-trimmed tree, its top almost reaching the ceiling, its outspreading branches nearly filling the room. A murmur of delight was heard, and surely no Hesperian garden or enchanted forest ever showed a braver specimen. The King and Queen and royal personages led the way, and, merrily trooping in, almost too eager for a nearer view to mind our P’s and Q’s, we flitted to and fro around the tree. The decorations, consisting of golden fruit, paper flowers and wreathes, stuffed birds and animals, with bon-bons, confections and ornaments, spangled, tinseled, frosted, of every conceivable hue and design, were crowned by a glittering star. Here beneath a tuft of foliage would be a bright-plumaged bird with outstretched wings, just beyond a squinting owl so life-like we shrank from its expected screech; perched on this bough would be a frog or lizard; on that one a squirrel, and above would crouch a glossy leopard. Beneath the tree on soft green moss were piled the presents--presents for guests, friends, attendants, young and old; generally for the girls, work-baskets, needle-cases and toilet dainties; for the boys, knives, pocket-books, fishing and hunting implements. My present was a small dressing-case, my sister’s a silk reticule, my brother’s a hunter’s horn. The Crown Princess was, of course, generously remembered, and seemed much pleased with our offering, an Indian basket curiously wrought with shells, bird feathers and sweet grasses and containing a pair of moccasins and a watch-case, all made by Indians of Northern New York. Neither her presents to members of the royal household nor theirs to her were displayed.