If there was anything that the presenting official thought might be appropriately remarked to the distinguished presentee, he would whisper a hint to that effect in the grand ducal ear, of which His Highness was usually glad to avail himself.  I remember one amusing instance in point, when it needed all the sense of the majesty of the sovereign presence to preserve in the bystanders the gravity due to the occasion.  It was in the case of an American presentation.  The United States had at that time no recognized representative at the grand ducal court, and Americans, much fewer in number then than of late years, were generally presented by a banker who had almost all the American business.  This gentleman, having to present some one—­I forget the name—­who was connected by blood or in some other special manner with Washington, whispered to the grand duke that such was the case.  His Serene Highness bowed his appreciation of the fact.  Then, after going through the usual foot-exercise, and after a longer pause than usual, he looked up at the expectant visitor standing in front of him, and said, but with evident effort, “Ah-h-h!  Le grand Vaash!” There was nothing more forthcoming.  Having thus delivered himself, he made his visitor a low bow, and the latter retired.  It was evident that the grand duke of Tuscany heard of “Le grand Vaash” then for the first time in his life.

After any specialty of this sort had been disposed of, the ruck of presentees, standing like a lot of school-boys in a long row, were “presented,” which ceremony was deemed to have been effectually accomplished by one duck of the grand ducal head, to be divided among all the recipients, and an answering duck from each of them in return.  They were then as free to amuse themselves in any manner it seemed good to them as if they had been at a public place of entertainment and had paid for their tickets.  And not only that, but they were free to return and do the same, without any fresh presentation ceremony, every time there was a ball at the palace, which was at least once a week from the beginning of the year to the end of Carnival.

Nor were the amusements thus liberally provided by any means to be despised.  There was a magnificent suite of rooms, with a really grand ball-room, all magnificently lighted; there was a large and very excellent band; there was a great abundance of card-tables, with all needed appurtenances, in several of the rooms; ices and sherbets and bonbons and tea and pastry were served in immense profusion during the whole evening.  At one o’clock the supper-rooms were opened, and there was a really magnificent supper, with “all the delicacies of the season,” and wine in abundance of every sort.  And the old hands, who would appear knowing, used to say to new-comers, “Never mind the champagne—­you can get that anywhere—­but stick to the Rhine wine:  it comes from the old boy’s own vineyards.”  To tell the truth, the scene at that supper used to be a somewhat