It has been suggested that my fortunate meeting with the Kaiser was a matter of luck. In a way it was; but it was more particularly due to my persistent desire to see Belgrade. I had failed to get there during my outward journey to Constantinople, but I was determined not to be baulked. I had no thought of staying at Nish, and it was not until we were approaching the station of that town that a fellow traveller, a German non-commissioned officer, looked out of the window and shouted out so loudly and excitedly that all the travellers in the corridor carriage could hear, “_Unser Kaiser ist hier_” (our Kaiser is here). I jumped up and looked out of the window and saw the flags and decorations, and felt that indeed Fate had been kind to me. The magic name of the Kaiser was too much for me. I could not think of letting pass such a magnificent opportunity of seeing the Great War Lord, and I therefore determined to leave the military train at the Serbian town so recently the capital, but now in the hands of the Germans. Nish was under snow. The day of my arrival, January 18th, 1916, was brilliantly clear, just such a day as one finds at Montreal or St. Moritz. I had hoped to get at least a glimpse of the Kaiser, but I was far more fortunate than that, encountering him on several occasions during this to me fateful day. I never for one moment anticipated being present at that curious and historical Royal Banquet at which were made the vain-glorious Latin and German speeches that were telegraphed all over the world. Just as our train steamed into the station the Kaiser was making his state entry into the Serbian capital, which has now become the headquarters of the German, not as many people think the Austrian, Army in the Balkans. It is a vast arsenal, choked with munitions of war, in particular shells for big guns and also the guns themselves. The town is crammed with Serbian military prisoners, who are allowed their liberty, and roam about freely. They seem comparatively contented with their lot. My feelings when I ascertained the presence of the Kaiser can only be appreciated or understood by a journalist. I soon gathered together my belongings with the aid of a German soldier I called to help me. I then decided to look around and endeavour to approach as near as possible to the Kaiser himself. As a matter of fact I was not far away from him. King Ferdinand had only a few minutes previously received him on his arrival from the West, and the Royal pair were walking up and down the platform arm in arm, and without ceremony. I noticed a handkerchief in the Kaiser’s hand which he was constantly lifting to his mouth, but the distance was too great for me to hear him coughing.