In her younger days she used to spend much time in Scotland and Ireland, where she delighted in the hunting. During one of these visits in Ireland the fox she was pursuing sprang over the wall of Maynooth College, near which the chase had led her, and dashed across the exercise ground where the students were sauntering peacefully about. Great was their amazement the next moment when the wall was also cleared by several hounds and a horsewoman on a magnificent hunter, who had evidently followed the fox through a pond, for she was dripping wet. The fox was quickly captured, and the rider dismounted and asked to see the head of the college, to whom she explained her identity, requesting to be shown to a room where she could change her clothes. No feminine garments were to be found, however, in a seminary for young priests and she was forced to borrow one of the doctors’ cassocks. While her clothes were drying she invited the professors to have tea with her, charmed them all with her graciousness, and caused much merriment by her comical appearance and lively descriptions of her adventures. Once while in Amsterdam, where she occasionally went to be treated by an eminent specialist in nervous disorders, she entered a toy shop to buy a doll, saying to her companion: “I am sure my granddaughter will be delighted when she gets this.” The shop-keeper, thinking it impossible that this slender, youthful-looking person could be a grandmother, made some remark to that effect. “Oh, yes, I have four grandchildren,” said the Empress, “and to prove it I will come again soon and buy some toys for the other three. You may send them to my daughter, the Princess Gisela in Munich.” The poor shop-keeper was dumfounded and humbly apologized for his rudeness. “You were not rude,” said Elizabeth kindly; “on the contrary, you were very flattering.” She was usually regarded as somewhat eccentric in Amsterdam, from her habit of always holding a fan before her face in the street, and once a street urchin ran up to her and snatched it away, crying, “Let me see your face!” But in spite of the unpleasant experiences which her incognito occasionally created, she could never be induced to abandon it and was much displeased when people did not respect her wishes in this matter. When one of the servants at a Spanish hotel, where she had registered as “Frau Folna of Corfu,” addressed her as “Your Highness,” she retorted sharply, “There are no Highnesses in my apartments.”