dressed in her long blue coat with scarlet facings, quaint, tall shiny
hat, and in her hand the signal-flag.

At length I reach Apeldoorn, and there a difficulty presents itself.
That the Palace is some distance away I am aware, but _how_ far I do not
know, or in which direction, and while I am parleying and gesticulating
in a mixture of French, English, and a _few_ words of Dutch, the only
conveyance obtainable takes itself off, and I am left to tramp through
the woods with a jargon of Dutch directions ringing in my ears, and a
very faint idea of longitude or latitude in my mind.

The first part lay through a long, straggling village leading right into
a beautiful forest. Given a fine day, and a certainty of route, it would
have been simply grand; but as it soon poured in torrents, my situation
was anything but enviable--in fact, I was almost in despair, when a huge
cart laden with trunks of trees came slowly from a turning near.

Making the man in charge understand that I wanted the "Paleis," I found
he was bound in the same direction. By this time the rutty roads were
almost ankle deep in mud, so when I was invited to ride, I gladly
scrambled to the top of the pile, and so jogged along; my good-natured
guide trudging at the side, pipe in mouth, regardless of the weather. In
such stately style, then, I at length sighted the Palace, but was
careful to make a descent before getting _too_ near, as THE STRAND
MAGAZINE must make a more dignified appearance at a Royal residence than
a wood-cart and a smock-frocked driver can impart.

Four or five men in State liveries bow profoundly as I enter, one of
whom conducts me to an ante-room, and, after a short interval, through
some long corridors, up some stairs and into the presence of one of Her