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BISMARCK The Prince is a fine man, very tall and well proportioned, with a good-natured, frank, rosy face, and a head like a baby's, fringed with just a little soft, curly hair.

I was delighted with him. What an idiot I have been not to practise speaking German! I have lost so much of the conversation, and I have no doubt many interesting things were said. The Count talked politics; the Prince of drinking, smoking, and eating—this to me, and in good English; the Princess of pictures, and I gathered that she did not like the new open-air school. After breakfast the Prince smoked a long student's pipe, and told funny stories, the points of which I, of course, lost—but I could gaze at him and take in his colour, and that was all I wanted.

The following is a fragment of a letter, written to my niece, Norah King, the remainder of the letter (eight pages) being lost:—

". . . into the breakfast-room, where the Prince, himself, introduced me to his wife and his friends, and we sat down. I sat beside Bismarck, on his left, and facing the Countess, who was on his right. The breakfast was very plain, consisting chiefly of eggs in various forms, with one or two meats. We drank red wine and beer, and after breakfast a small glass of rye whisky, fifty years old, with our coffee.

"While the coffee was being served the head butler brought a long student's pipe, with a great china bowl well stuffed with tobacco, which, the Prince having adjusted it in his mouth, was lighted by the young Countess. For an hour he sat smoking, talking, jesting—now in English to me, again in German to his other guests, and all the while I envied you your German. When you meet Bismarck