Saturday Morning.—Steaming down Elbe, meaning to anchor at its mouth. (Not at its elbow, as Sark told the pilot. Pilot didn't see joke. Stared at him, and said, "Hein?" which made Sark look foolish.) Last night citizens of Hamburg entertained us at dinner. Banquet spread in what they call the Zoologischer Garten. Odd how the way of pronouncing a familiar word grows upon some people after dinner.
Mr. Punch regrets to hear (from a thoroughly [un]reliable source) that some confusion has been caused at Keil owing to the great physical resemblance between his representative on the Tantallon Castle and His Imperial Majesty the German Emperor!! In fact, some doubts are expressed as to which of the two it was who opened the Baltic Canal!
Feeding time seven. No extra charge to the public, who are kept outside. Excellent dinner; but general arrangement more suited to time of Methuselah than our shorter-lived day. Sat down at 7.30; finished by 11.30. Peculiarity of menu was the interpolation of cold speeches among the hot dishes. As soon as we swallowed our Klare Schildkrötensuppe, and toyed with our Forellen, blau mit Butter, Chairman rose and proposed toast to Emperor. Next came on the table (sideways, of course) Helgoländer hummer auf amerikanische Art. Before the dish was removed, another gentleman on his legs proposing health of Mr. G. So on through the meal: first a bite and sup, then a speech. Practice interesting, though apt to induce a coolness on part of some of the dishes. Suppose cook calculates that gentlemen proposing particular toast will speak for ten minutes; he takes twenty, or, if of a fearless nature, half an hour. Where's your next dish? Why, cold or burnt. Nor can system be recommended on score of economy. Consequence of sitting through four hours dining off sort of speech-sandwich, is that you begin to get hungry again. The absent-minded man, offered an ice, says he usually begins his dinner with soup. If two hundred follow his example, and insist upon going all through the dinner again, it is not only embarrassing, but becomes costly.
Off Jutland, Sunday.—Don Currie last night gave return banquet on Tantallon Castle to Hamburgers. Done in princely style. Over two hundred sat down in brilliantly lighted saloon. Had our speeches, as usual with nous autres, served with the dessert instead of as entrées. Few, short, pithy, and one historical. Don Currie proposed toasts to his fellow Sovereigns, the Queen of England and Emperor of Germany. Burgomaster of Hamburg toasted Mr. G., who responded in speech, lofty in sentiment, eloquently simple, admirable in delivery. Dog and pup, I have, during the last twenty years, heard nearly every one of his great speeches in the House and out. Declare that in all the qualities that go to make a perfect oration, it would be hard for even his record to beat this impromptu speech, delivered amid such strange surroundings.
After dinner, a dance on deck. The waltzing and polkaing commonplace enough. But pretty to see John Leng, M.P., and the Lord of the Isles do a sword dance, whilst Ramsay, M.P., like them, clad in national garb, played the bagpipes. This struck the German guests more than anything. Their papers full of it.
Copenhagen, Tuesday.—King and Queen of Denmark, with rest of Royal Family, had day out to-day. Came aboard Tantallon Castle for luncheon.
"You talk about your Roshervilles, cher Tobee," his Majesty said, as we smoked cigars with our coffee; "but to my mind, the place to spend a happy day is the Tantallon Castle."
"There is," I said, "the drawback of the absence of shrimps. But then even kings cannot have everything."