S---- was famous for his sharpness in choosing and trading horseflesh, and F---- used to call him on the 'phone, saying "Is this Herr S----? _Guten tag!_ I am Graf Pumpernickel." Then he would elaborately arrange a rendezvous in some very public spot in Metz, at which S---- was to appear with the horse he wished to trade. Of course when poor S---- kept the appointment, only a group of jeering young rascals greeted him, and S---- never discovered who Graf Pumpernickel was, though the joke was often repeated. The money question of the poorer officers, often proves very serious. They are forbidden to earn money in any way except by writing. They cannot marry the girl they choose unless between them they have a certain sum, a minimum; this keeps many fine young officers and charming girls from matrimony; and frequently results on the man's side in far-reaching evils of entangling affairs, and illegitimate children. An officer said to me once, he _thought_ he had no children, but a pretty woman who kept a shop in the Kathedral Plate once sent him a baby's pillow and he never was quite sure just what that meant. The Berlin demi-mondaines are certainly fascinating creatures, dressed in the most exquisite Paris clothes, and it is easy to understand how some penniless Graf may become hopelessly involved in an affair with one of them. Officially such things are frowned on. Talking of officers' troubles one day, F---- told me that suicide was often the _only_ possible solution, and for the honour of one's regiment one was sometimes expected to end one's life. An acquaintance of his had had a revolver sent him by his commanding officer as a gentle hint, on finding himself involved in a scandalous affair.