hope during his struggle for life: all brought to naught. Late in
the evening of September 14 came news of the President's
death--opening a new depth of sadness; for I had come not merely
to revere him as a patriot and admire him as a statesman, but to
love him as a man. Few days have seemed more overcast than that
Sunday when, at the little American chapel in Berlin, our colony
held a simple service of mourning, the imperial minister of
foreign affairs and other representatives of the government
having quietly come to us. The feeling of the German people--awe,
sadness, and even sympathy--was real. Formerly they had disliked
and distrusted the President as the author of the protective
policy which had cost their industries so dear; but now, after
his declaration favoring reciprocity,--with his full recognition
of the brotherhood of nations,--and in view of this calamity, so
sudden, so distressing, there had come a revulsion of feeling.

To see one whom I so honored, and who had formerly been so
greatly misrepresented, at last recognized as a great and true
man was, at least, a solace.

At this period came the culmination of a curious episode in my
official career. During the war in China the Chinese minister at
Berlin, Lu-Hai-Houan, feeling himself cut off from relations with
the government to which he was accredited, and, indeed, with all
the other powers of Europe, had come at various times to me, and
with him, fortunately, came his embassy counselor, Dr. Kreyer,
whom I had previously known at Berlin and St. Petersburg as a
thoughtful man, deeply anxious for the welfare of China, and
appreciative of the United States, where he had received his
education. The minister was a kindly old mandarin of high rank,