which we are so fond of ascribing to “those who go down to the sea in ships.”  These long sea voyages had, moreover, the effect of keeping him clear of all those court and political intrigues with which Emperor William was surrounded, as if with a very network, prior to his accession to the throne; intrigues, I may add, which since William became emperor, have been devoted to many a futile endeavor designed to create mischief between the two brothers.  It is probable that they will have less effect than ever from henceforth, since William, now that his eldest boy has attained his majority, will have no longer any reason to apprehend the possibility of Henry’s undoing, in the capacity of regent, all the work that he, the kaiser, has accomplished during the eleven years of his reign; indeed, now that this danger is eliminated, the two brothers are likely to become more intimate than ever, and the Court of Berlin will probably see much more of the sailor prince than heretofore.  Henry is the very life of his brother’s court, as he is not only extremely fond of making fun, even at the expense sometimes of his majesty, especially about the excessively earnest attitude which the emperor assumes, with regard to the most trivial questions.  Absolutely unconventional, save on his own quarter-deck, he carries about with him an atmosphere of brightness and breeziness which is almost as infectious and as bracing as a whiff of sea air.

For all his love of skylarking, and the freedom of his manners, his name has never been associated with any questionable story, save by the gutter element of the Parisian press, which endeavored to drag him into the Dreyfus case by declaring that Germany’s strange attitude in the affair was due to the alleged knowledge the French War Department of terrible immorality proved to have been committed by Prince Henry during frequent secret visits to Paris.  Of course there is not a word of truth in these contemptible stories, and the prince’s reputation as a perfect husband and a healthy-minded gentleman, stands high, even in Berlin, where people are overfond of scandalous gossip.  Certainly there are plenty of stories current about the pranks that he has played, but these are all of an innocent and boyish character.  The prince creates the impression of the most complete wholesomeness; his six feet of well set up manhood, his bright eyes and clear, tanned skin, seem the outward and visible sign of a thoroughly clean and sound mind; common sense, frankness, fearlessness, dignity and kindness, are written in his every feature in a way that reminds people vividly of his lamented father; while the easy movements of an athletic body, always apparently in the pink of condition, are evidently allied to the smooth serenity of a mind confident in itself, but modest with the humility of knowledge.

After having said so much that is pleasant of the prince, I must, in pursuance of my determination to give the shadows as well as the lights of my portraits, admit that there are two particulars in which Prince Henry cannot be said to shine.  One of these is public speaking, and the other is shooting; he is as unfortunate in the one respect as in the other.