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KAISERIN’S BIRTHDAY CELEBRATION.

Oct. 22.—­It was hard to realize today that a great war was going on.  Every building in town occupied by the Germans was decorated with the German flag in honor of the Kaiserin’s birthday, and at night the principal ones, including that occupied by the “War Cabinet,” were specially illuminated.  All morning long, quantities of Generals came rolling up in touring cars to the Kaiser’s door to pay their homage and offer congratulations.  About noon the Crown Prince and staff arrived by motor from the direction of the headquarters of his army.  The Crown Prince, who characteristically sat on the front seat next to the chauffeur, looked as boyish and immature as his former pictures—­his military cap cocked slightly on one side.  The responsibility of leading an army had apparently not had a sobering effect on the Crown Prince as yet, but I was told that the guiding brain and genius in the Crown Prince’s army headquarters was not that of the Crown Prince, but of his chief adviser, Gen. von Haeseler, the brilliant cavalry leader of the war of 1870 and now the “grand old man” of the German Army, sharing with von Zeppelin the distinction of being the oldest living German Generals.  It seemed still harder to realize that men were fighting and dying not fifty miles away when, after luncheon, Kaiser, Crown Prince, and staffs went for a two hours’ automobile ride, the Crown Prince leaving late in the afternoon to rejoin his command.

The only warlike notes in the day’s picture were a German military aeroplane—­one of the famous Taubes—­that flew at a high altitude over the Great Headquarters toward the enemies’ lines; a battalion of Saxon Landsturm that rested for an hour at the railroad station, then started on the final hike for the front, refreshed by a glimpse of their motoring Kaiser, and toward evening four automobile loads of wounded German officers, who arrived from the direction of Rheims, where it was rumored the French had made four desperate attempts to break through.

Here one gets more and more the impression that the Germans in their war-making have learned a lesson from the hustling Americans—­that they have managed to graft American speed to their native thoroughness, making a combination hard to beat.  For instance, there is a regular relay service of high-power racing motor cars between the Great Headquarters and Berlin, the schedule calling for a total running time of something under a day and a half, beating the best time at present possible by train by four hours.  One of the picked drivers, who has the last lap—­through France—­said his running schedule required him to average sixty miles an hour, and this running at night.  A network of fast relay automobile services is also run from the Great Headquarters, through Belgium, linking up Brussels and Antwerp, and to the principal points on the long line of battle.