On Wednesday, July 25, 1900, I find this irreverent entry in my American girl’s diary:—­

“I can’t think of any words sufficiently high sounding with which to begin the report of this day, so shall simply write about breakfast first, and gradually lead up to the great event.  In spite of the coming honour and the present excitement we all ate a hearty breakfast.”

“As our train was to leave for Peterhof about noon we spent the morning dressing.

“After all,” writes my irreverent daughter in her diary, “dressing for royalty is not more important than dressing for a dance or dinner.  It can’t last for much over an hour.  When we had everything on we sat opposite each other as stiff as pokers—­waiting.”

My daughter took a snapshot picture of us while waiting.  Mrs. Pierce had kindly given us some instructions about curtseying and backing away from royalty, a ceremony which neither the Czar nor the Czarina imposed upon us, however.  The trip to Peterhof was made on one of the Imperial cars.  The distance by rail from St. Petersburg was only half-an-hour.  A gentleman from the American Embassy rode with us.  We were met at the station by footmen in royal livery and conducted to a carriage with the Imperial coat-of-arms upon it.  Sentinels in grey coats saluted us.

We were driven first to the Palace of Peterhof, where more footmen in gold lace, and two other officials in gorgeous uniform, conducted us inside, through a corridor, past a row of bowing servants, into a dining-room where the table was set for luncheon, with gold and silver plates, cut glass and rare china.  A more exquisite table setting I never saw.  Three dressing-rooms opened off this big room, and these we promptly appropriated.

The luncheon was perfect, though we would have enjoyed it better after the strain of our presentation had been over.  The four different kinds of wine were not very liberally patronised by any of our party.  After luncheon we were driven through the royal park which was literally filled with mounted Cossacks on guard everywhere, to the abode of the Emperor.  Through another double line of liveried servants we were ushered into a small room where the Master of Ceremonies and a lady-in-waiting greeted us.  We waited about five minutes when an officer came to the Doctor and took him to see the Emperor.  A little later we were ushered into another room into the presence of the Empress of Russia.  She came forward very graciously with outstretched hands to meet us.  The Czarina is the most beautiful woman I ever saw, aristocratic, simple, extremely sensitive.  She was dressed in a black silk gown with white polka dots.  Slightly taller than the Czar, the Empress was most affable, girlish in her manner.  As she talked the colour came and went on her pale, fair cheeks, and she gave me the impression of being a very sensitive, reserved, exquisitely rare nature.  Her smile had a charming yet half melancholy radiance.  We all sat down and talked.  I remember the little shiver with which the Empress spoke of a race in the Orient whom she disliked.