ght weeks we went across into Holland.
Amsterdam was a great surprise to me. I had always thought of Venice
as the city of canals; it had never entered my mind that I should find
similar conditions in a Dutch town. I don't suppose the comparison
goes far beyond the fact that there are canals in both cities--I
have never seen Venice--but Amsterdam struck me as being extremely
picturesque. From Holland we went to Germany, where we spent five or
six months, most of the time in Berlin. I found Berlin more to my
taste than London, and occasionally I had to admit that in some things
it was superior to Paris.

In Berlin I especially enjoyed the orchestral concerts, and I attended
a large number of them. I formed the acquaintance of a good many
musicians, several of whom spoke of my playing in high terms. It was
in Berlin that my inspiration was renewed.

One night my millionaire entertained a party of men composed of
artists, musicians, writers, and, for aught I know, a count or
two. They drank and smoked a great deal, talked art and music, and
discussed, it seemed to me, everything that ever entered man's mind.
I could only follow the general drift of what they were saying. When
they discussed music, it was more interesting to me; for then some
fellow would run excitedly to the piano and give a demonstration of
his opinions, and another would follow quickly, doing the same. In
this way, I learned that, regardless of what his specialty might
be, every man in the party was a musician. I was at the same time
impressed with the falsity of the general idea that Frenchmen are
excitable and emotional, and that Germans are calm and phlegmatic.
Frenchmen are merely gay and never overwhelmed by their emotions. When
they talk loud and fast, it is merely talk, while Germans get worked
up and red in the face when sustaining an opinion, and in heated
discussions are likely to allow their emotions to sweep them off their
feet.

My millionaire planned, in the midst of the discussion on music, to
have me play the "new American music" and astonish everybody present.
The result was that I was more astonished than anyone else. I went to
the piano and played the most intricate ragtime piece I knew. Before
there was time for anybody to express an opinion on what I had done, a
big bespectacled, bushy-headed man rushed over, and, shoving me out
of the chair, exclaimed: "Get up! Get up!" He seated himself at the
piano, and, taking the theme of my