The Kaiser is a wonderful personality. The more I see him the more I admire him. He impresses you as having a great sense of power and true and sound judgment. And then he is kind and good. I do not think him capable of doing a mean or small action. Mrs. Vanderbilt drove me out to Potsdam in her motor, and, going through the forest, we passed in our hurried flight an automobile which we did not have time to remark upon. That evening there was a ball at court. When the Emperor spoke to me he said: "You flew by the Empress and me like lightning this afternoon when we were walking in the forest." "Was that your Majesty's motor?" I asked. "We went so fast that I did little else than hold on to my seat. It must have seemed ill-mannered to have flown by like that." There is to-night a _Gesinde Ball_ to which we are going. I know that you have no idea as to what a _Gesinde Ball_ is, so I will tell you that it is a ball given at some kind house by a kind lady. People dress themselves up as servants. It is our wildest dream, and we are never so happy as when we are gotten up to look like ladies' maids. I can tell you how some of them will look--self-made and to the manner born. I am going, since commands from superior quarters make it imperative, as a giddy old housekeeper or a care (worn) taker who has taken a smart gown from her mistress's wardrobe on the sly. Several evenings later I heard your _prima donna_ with patience (because you sent her), but not with enthusiasm. She is like a hundred other would-be _prima donnas_ who cannot sing now and never can. These flock to Berlin, study with all their might for two or three years, and sing worse each year. Then they give a concert, for which they give away the tickets. They say they must have the Berlin criticism. In the mean time their families are eating dry bread and their friends are squeezed like lemons. They get their criticism in some paper, cut it out, stick it on a nice piece of paper, and send it to their countrymen, who are out of pocket for a thousand marks or so. Then they go back to their homesteads, discouraged and unhappy, and sing for nothing in the village choir for the rest of their lives. Our winters are very much alike--always the same routine. The season commences with the reception of the _grande maîtresse_, then comes the _Schleppenkur_, the _Ordensfest_, and after that the Emperor's birthday, with a gala opera in the evening; then the first, second, and third balls at court, and the gala performances at the Opera when any sovereign comes to Berlin on a visit. In Lent there is always one entertainment at court. After Easter every one disappears and all the blinds are pulled down. Those who remain in Berlin pretend they are away.