“May it please your Majesty. I crave your Majesty’s patronage, hailing from the Emerald Isle: the enclose (_sic_) cover for painting arranging china is procurable in any shade of linen. I have the honour to remain with the profoundest veneration, “Your Majesty’s most dutiful servant, “JAMES BARKER (Belfast)” The “enclose cover” was a green apron with a nice large pocket in what is called, I believe, “art shade,” but as such gifts are never accepted without payment it was put on one side with the idea of being returned. Her Majesty, however, happening to need something as a protection for her dress when handling the before-mentioned fluffy garments, found that the green apron supplied a distinct want, and it was worn every day by the Empress for the next few weeks. Obviously “James Barker,” even if his literary style was not of the highest order, had an instinct for supplying the right thing at the right moment. The “Irish apron” was the subject of constant praise, and during “the wearin’ o’ the green” Her Majesty frequently expressed her appreciation of its practical utility. It was, I believe, the only apron Her Majesty ever wore. To the Princess personally, the approach of Christmas was a serious time for many reasons, chiefly financial. Until she was seventeen she received only a personal allowance of five marks a month, out of which she was supposed to buy her own stamps and to spare a Sunday contribution towards the collection. It may perhaps be a breach of confidence to reveal that this contribution was never allowed to exceed ten pfennigs, amounting to one penny in English coin; and I can never forget the look of sorrowful indignation when I tendered to her one day in chapel, out of pure inadvertence, the smallest silver coin of German currency, a fifty-pfennig-piece, worth a little less than sixpence. She had to put it in the plate, but absolutely refused to refund me the excess value. “How am I to buy my stamps when you are so reckless?” she demanded when outside the chapel door. The balancing of her small accounts was always fraught with many sighs and groans. “Always thirty-five pfennigs too little,” she would announce as she drew the final double line. She had the greatest sympathy with Mr. Micawber when we read “David Copperfield” together, and agreed heartily with his dictum that, given an income of twenty pounds a year, the spending of nineteen pounds nineteen shillings and sixpence would result in happiness, but that if the expenditure reached twenty pounds and sixpence it would spell misery. So that as soon as Christmas began to loom in the distance there were many anxious consultations as to how to obtain the necessary presents for her various relations. Of course “Papa and Mamma” had to have something very special and individual worked by herself--anything bought ready-made in a shop was not to be thought of.