Often there were families of nine or ten children, and nearly every year one more infant was added to their list. The Empress when distributing the cakes of soap would relate how the good peasants at first preferred to keep them as souvenirs rather than use them for their legitimate purpose, bringing them out with pride to show to Her Majesty a year or so later, carefully wrapped up and put away.
One of those persons whose idea of the German Empress is that she spends her life in a series of domestic duties once sent for her acceptance a small parcel, together with the following letter:
“Most Excellent Majesty, Berlin.
“Most Gracious Empress,
“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.