shaky bookcase uprooted it, and it fell with a crash on the floor. I
halted midway in my song. People rushing in from the supper-room asked,
"What is the matter?" "Negative," answered Miss Loring, quick as
thought, at which they all laughed. Mr. Brooks, to cover the confusion,
said in a loud voice, "This is not the first time Madame Hegermann has
brought down the house." There was more laughter, and I sat down again
at the piano and sang "Tender and True," an exquisite song written by
Mrs. Lincoln about a young soldier killed during the war, who wore to
the last a knot of blue ribbon his sweetheart had given him.

M. de Schlözer is bubbling over with joy, for he has the famous
pianist, von Bülow, staying with him at the German Legation. He says
von Bülow is most amiable about playing, and plays whenever he is
asked. His technique is wonderful and perfect. The ladies in Washington
are wild over him, and figuratively throw themselves at his feet. He is
giving two concerts here, and everybody has taken tickets. M. de
Schlözer gave last evening one of his memorable dinners, followed by
music. I know two people who enjoyed it--Schlözer and myself. Schlözer
was going to ask Julian Sturgis, but Julian Sturgis had on some former
occasion crossed his legs and looked distrait or had shown in some such
trivial manner that he was bored, which so exasperated Schlözer that he
barred him out, and invited Mr. Bayard instead, who perhaps loved music
less, but showed no outward signs of boredom.

Von Bülow is not only a wonderful pianist, but a very clever man of the
world. He sent me a book written by Wagner about music and wrote on the
first page "_Voici un livre qui vous intéressera. De la part du mari de
la femme de l'auteur_." Clever, isn't it? You know that Madame Wagner
is the daughter of Liszt. She ran away from von Bülow in order to marry
Wagner.