Within the last two years the Emperor has had an Opera constructed as a setting for various dances performed in Corfu by the peasants there. At great expense the Director of the Opera-House has had to send professionals to study the various dances on the spot, to copy the Corfiote costumes, and to paint the scenery of the island. But transplanted from Corfu and its picturesque surroundings to the Berlin Opera-stage, these dances appear excessively dull and meaningless, and are not in the least redeemed by the accompanying music founded on ancient Greek melodies. This opera was played before King George and Queen Mary on the last evening of their stay in Berlin, two days after the wedding of the Emperor’s daughter. None of the children of the Kaiser, with the exception of the Crown Prince, who learned to play the violin fairly well, have ever mastered any musical instrument. For some years the Princess made strenuous efforts to learn the piano, but in spite of her love of music she was never able to play even the simplest piece approximately correctly. Various professors of the art came and went--came with the joyous glow caused by the honour of teaching royalty, only to retire baffled after a few lessons. At last, when the Princess was about fourteen, she gave up the unequal contest, and refused to waste more time in efforts to attain the unattainable. Occasionally she has been heard to reproach any of her companions who had no yearnings after musical instruction. “You don’t want to learn the piano? But supposing you happen to marry a musical husband, whatever should you do if you couldn’t play to him?” “Well, he would probably be happier if I didn’t play to him,” replied one child of conspicuous good sense. This observation helped the Princess to realize that piano playing of the baser sort was not a necessary ingredient of happy matrimony, and she shortly afterwards renounced further ambitions in that direction. Nor in the domain of painting and drawing, though fond of both, did she accomplish anything noteworthy, as she did not possess the necessary perseverance and patience, and was always too eager to arrive at the effect; so that her pictures, like her music, always promised something that was never realized. For outdoor sketching she professed a great affection, but it was probably the “outdoorness” more than the sketching that she really loved. As a child, animals, particularly horses, were her great passion, and she paid many Sunday afternoon visits to Busch’s Circus in Berlin, where a large party of little boys and girls were also invited to fill up the royal box. The Berlin populace who crowd the Circus on Sundays were delighted to see the “_Kleine Prinzessin_,” as they loved to call her, enjoying herself in their midst.