while the German stews himself within doors, he will seize the slightest pretext, whenever the weather permits, to sit out in the open air. As May opens up, and even before the chill is out of the atmosphere, the restaurants and cafés place tables and chairs in such open spaces as they have about them, which are immediately put to use by guests, who linger over their beer late into the chilly evening. A bit of garden, with a scraggly tree in it, is an excellent stockin-trade for a beer-house. I have asked several Germans to explain to me why their country people hermetically sealed their houses, and yet in the warm season counted so much upon the fresh air without, and they have invariably answered that it is because they have a great horror of draughts, and believe them provokers of rheumatic complaints, of which they have a great dread. The explanation, however, hardly seems adequate, because they will sit for hours out-doors in a chilly air that in any other part of the world would surely bring on the complaint they affect to fear so much. is as far north as the northern point of New- | prediction, escaped any ill effects. And yet, foundland, on the Atlantic side, and the northern point of Vancouver's Island, on the Pacific. The climatic conditions of Western Europe correspond more nearly in equableness to those of the western than the eastern parts of North America, and in a general way it may be said that the climate is what it would be if situated at a corresponding parallel west of the Rocky Mountains. The winter was very much like one in New York city, without, perhaps, the sharp and sudden contrasts one experiences there. There was considerable snow, and yet it was never deep, and I recall only a few days of good sleighing. During almost the whole of December the heavens were heavily overcast, and for weeks no ray of sunshine came into my windows. Daylight appeared toward nine in the morning, and the night settled down a little after four in the afternoon. Of course, the opposite extreme prevails in midsummer, when the long morning and evening twilight leaves not more than five hours of darknessbetween ten and three o'clock. Great heat occasionally prevails in the latter season, but, taken altogether, the Berlin climate is more equable than that of New York, and less so than that of London. The Germans take many more precautions against the cold than we do, and than we deem necessary. A gentleman does not consider himself adequately protected for a street promenade in winter without a long overcoat, heavily lined with furs, with a huge fur collar up about his ears; in addition, he envelops his throat in numerous folds of a silk handkerchief, and finally stuffs his ears with cotton. In truth, the views and practices of the average German, with reference to fresh air, present some inconsistencies to an American, which certainly, at first view, appear hardly reconcilable, either with each From an obscure fishing station on this river, other or with what we are taught to consider established prior to the twelfth century, has the fundamental conditions of sanitary well-grown a closely compacted city of over a millbeing. Within doors he has a horror of fresh air. Closed double windows; every cranny through which a trifle of pure, unadulterated air can make its entrance carefully sealed; a hot, thick, steamy, and inodorous air; are to him the conditions of comfort. He revels in the stifling, tobacco- reeking atmosphere of the Bierkneipe, or popular concert-hall. When it was discovered that I habitually left the window of my sleeping-room open, even during the coldest nights, I was immediately warned that I was guilty of an indiscretion which would probably end in typhus fever. I was, however, so wedded to this bad habit, and took so much comfort in it, that I continued its practice, and, notwithstanding the ominous In order to picture to oneself the situation of the chief city of the German Empire one must imagine a wide stretch of flat, sandy country, with a narrow, sluggish stream meandering through it, and on each side of this stream the crowded streets of the metropolis. This stretch of level surface, in fact, extends over the greater part of Prussia, from the Rhine to the Russian line, and north to the Baltic. This small river is the Spree. In a general way its course is from west to east through the city, expanding on the eastern side to its greatest width. It has one or two parallel branches, which have been widened and deepened into canals sufficient for the long, clumsy country boats to come up to central points in the city. ion of inhabitants. The form of the city is substantially circular. If a line be drawn from north to south through the circle, the older parts of the city will lie to the east, and the newer to the west. Cutting the circle, in a line running east and west through its center, is the principal thoroughfare, known as the Unter den Linden, which extends from the old Schloss, on the east, to the Thiergarten, at the opposite extremity. This street is the pride of the Berliners, and their lounging place, but it cannot be said to present any especially striking effects. It is, perhaps, two hundred feet broad, but the stately lindens which are said to have once shaded its central walk, and which gave it its pretty name, withered and died as the pavements encroached ness of a surrounding city with its noise and turmoil is entirely lost. In the winter I was accustomed to very often take long rambles into its remoter parts, and always with fresh enjoyment. The sharp, keen air braced one up for vigorous exercise, and it was exhilarating to tramp along the deserted winding paths, and look off among the darkbodied trees, rising like mourners out of the snow. At times there were peculiar effects, when a sudden sharp, cold snap followed a moist day of greater warmth than usual, and the great arms of the trees, and every tiny branch of the bushes, were cased in icy crystals. Then the slant rays of the sun, gleaming through the frosty air, filled the silent aisles of the wood with multitudinous sprays of diamonds and pearls. But it is when the warmth of latter May comes that the exquisite beauty of this bit of nature is seen, for then it is turned into a sea of foliage of the most delicate beauty. This noble park is so near the populous parts of the city that it is easily accessible, and is consequently filled with people, on Sunday afternoons especially, and every fine day troops of children can be seen, with their nurses, revel upon them, and are now replaced by double rows of insignificant successors, which are only kept alive through persistent attention. The center is occupied by a broad foot-way, which has on one side a carriage-way, and on the other a horse-path. Outside of these, on each side, are the usual street-ways and sidewalks. At the east the Linden loses itself, when it crosses the Spree, in the wide space known as the Lustgarten, which was formerly a veritable garden, and also parade ground. On one side of this roomy square is the old palace, generally known as the Schloss; on another side is the Dome Church, where the imperial family attend divine service; and on the northern face the square front of the old Museum, with its broad flight of steps, stands forth with an air of aggressiveness. At the sides of these steps are the two magnificent bronzes which are so much copied in small-the amazon on horseback defending herself against a tiger, by Kiss, and the hunter on horseback combating a lion, by Wolff. Connoisseurs say that the Berlin Museum contains the best arranged galleries in Europe for the study of the development of art, in sculpture, painting, and engraving; but it has no works of special renown. Behind this build-ing in the piles of loose sand which the authoring is the beautiful structure of the National ities have very considerately placed in the play Museum, where are the collections of modern spaces for the particular delectation of the art. Recrossing the bridge from this magnifi- youngsters. Of the many public parks I have cent open space, and going westward, we come seen, I do not recall one which, to the pedesat once upon the Opera House, Emperor's and trian, is so attractive as this. I have heard Crown Prince's palaces, the university, arsenal, ladies complain, however, that its drives are and academy buildings. These are all clus- not extensive enough, and that, therefore, it is tered quite near to each other at the eastern soon exhausted. Along the southern side of end of the Unter den Linden, and are all exte- the Thiergarten is the Thiergarten Strasse, riorly quite plain, looking more as if built for which is lined with villa-like residences, suruse than ornament. In the center of the Lin- rounded by gardens. Immediately south of den, directly opposite the Emperor's palace, this lies the fashionable quarter of the city, stands the colossal bronze statue of Frederick though it cannot be said that Berlin has any the Great on horseback, towering up fully to the one quarter which is exclusively devoted to the hight of the neighboring buildings. It is a residences of the wealthier classes. Just outwonderfully spirited and impressive bronze, side the north-east corner of the Thiergarten a and yet, withal, very natural. The shops of new and beautiful quarter is growing up around the Linden are in no way noteworthy, nor its the Königsplatz, which is also occupied by the architecture at all impressive. At the western upper ten. In the center of the platz rises a end it terminates at the triple arch, which opens column, surmounted by a huge gilded figure directly on to the Thiergarten. This latter is with outstretched wings. This is the "Denkthe public park of Berlin, and is certainly as mal," or memorial column, recently reared, as charming as possible. It is about two miles expressed in letters of gold on its base, “by a long, and perhaps half a mile wide. Its charm thankful country to its victorious army." The lies in its extreme naturalness. It is merely a fluted sides of the column hold cannon captbit of wild woods, with carriage-roads, horse- ured from the Danes, Austrians, and French, paths, and foot-ways winding about among the and the four sides of the spacious pedestal contrees. The natural undergrowth is left undis- tain bronze reliefs of the principal scenes in the turbed. There is little attempt at artificiality, recent wars with those peoples. Near by is or, if there is, it counterfeits nature admirably. Kroll's summer theater, with its roomy gardens. One can wander off into depths of wildness, On the eastern side of the city the Friedeby little sheets of water, where the conscious-rich Hain, a new park, has been created in or der to accommodate that more populous quarter. Except in the center, in the part immediately around the Rathhaus, or city hall, the streets are broad and roomy, and there are plenty of open spaces. Great care is taken to keep the streets clean and well lighted. In the principal thoroughfares the gas-lamps are not above a hundred feet apart on each side, and are kept lighted all night, whether there is moonlight or not, so that one can walk about the city at all times of the night with a sense of perfect security, which is, perhaps, also aided by the presence of plenty of policemen in all directions. There is a certain monotony in the domestic architecture and coloring of the streets. Almost universally the dwellings are built alike, so that a description of one will answer, in the essentials, for all. Ordinarily, the house has a frontage of between fifty and sixty feet, and is, as we should say, five or six stories high, and in depth the main building will, perhaps, also be fifty or sixty feet, while wings will extend rearward on each side of a small open court, which lies like a well in the midst of the surrounding structure. A building of this kind will be made of brick, stuccoed, and usually painted a brownish color, and in a respectable quarter will be occupied by from twelve to sixteen families, and in the poorer quarters by many more. Let us suppose we are entering one of these buildings to examine it. In the center, upon the level of the street, is the heavy double door. On the right, we see a little brass bell-knob, with the word "Portier" over it. This we ring, and in a moment the door opens, as it were automatically, with a slight spring. No one is to be seen, but as we enter we perceive on the right, near the level of the hall-way, a little window, through which a face is peering. This will belong to some member of the porter's family, who is taking an observation of the newcomer, and is ready to question him if his appearance suggests a doubt of his intentions, or to answer questions if desired. The corresponding apartments below the street level on the opposite side of the hall-way will probably be occupied by a small dealer in fruit and vegetables, or thread and needles. The stranger is thus constantly surprised in wandering through streets lined with elegant mansions, in which evidently the well to do classes are residing, at the incongruity of a series of shop-windows along the level of the street, with the miscellaneous display of small wares for sale, and by the signs of vegetable, meat, and other dealers. But to continue our examination. The hallway into which we have entered leads directly into the well-like court-yard already mentioned, and also to the rear stair-way connecting with several flats above. Before reaching this court, however, we notice on each side a flight of stairs ascending to the right and left. Let us take those to the right; those to the left would lead to flats and apartments corresponding to those we are examining, as the house is double. A half dozen steps brings us to a little landing, which serves for the suite of apartments-denominated the Parterre, corresponding to the French entresol; continuing up the polished stair-way to the next floor-the Erste, or belle étage. From the little landing we notice two double door-ways on each side, with a tiny brass plate on the wall by each, with the name of the occupant. Each is the entrance to a separate residence. In the middle of the door is a little bull's-eye, with an interior slide, which furnishes a convenient port-hole for observation of the visitor before the door is opened. If one should happen to call at an unusual hour, perhaps the lady of the establishment, unsuspicious of a friend at the unwonted time, will herself answer the bell; but she warily pushes aside the slide, and the waiting visitor will see an eye examining him, and then hear a rushing rustle along the hallway, and presently the red-faced mädchen will demurely answer his summons, and beg him to enter, and afterward the mistress will walk in with an air of having been entirely unconscious of his presence before the card was presented. Entering, we come into a narrow hall-way leading off to the right, which divides the reception and living-rooms-which look on to the street-from the dining-room, sleeping apartments, and the kitchen, in the rear. Such a flat will contain from six to twelve apartments, according to the magnitude of the building, with high ceilings and plenty of space. The same building will contain various grades of respectability. The Parterre and first étage may be occupied by a general, colonel, or baron; the second by a well to do merchant; the third by an officer of the civil service, whose income is modest, while the rear wings may be filled with the families of the less pretentious, or may be let out for furnished rooms. Toward the center of the city, where space is more valuable, one will see a conglomeration of family life and petty industries crowded into the same building, which is by no means agreeable to us, who are accustomed to the separation of business from domesticity. The floors are seldom carpeted, but are waxed, or sometimes varnished, with their nakedness relieved by a few rugs scattered here and there. There is a certain bareness and absence of the abundance of knick-knacks, elegances, and coziness of our American interiors, which convey an impression of indifference to show and display. Evidently the German ladies do not devote as much time and attention to these minor graces as our women; possibly it comes from the general economical habits of the people, but more likely from the partial absence of the domestic life common with us. Whatever the cause, a German interior rather chills than attracts. In all the living-rooms one sees the tall porcelain stove, which is a fixture. These stoves give out a soft, agreeable heat, are economical, and require but little attention. Thus it will be remarked that each of these buildings is a collection of dwellings under one roof, very much concentrated, but yet each suite of apartments spacious enough for all reasonable purposes. Each building, as already suggested, is guarded | by a porter, whose duty is to zealously watch the incomings and outgoings. The first impression is that there can be little privacy in such a method of living, but the contrary is really the case. I lived for six months in a building containing fifteen families, and never came to know the members of any of the others by sight, not even the one next adjoining on the same étage. One can therefore easily understand that Berlin, with over a million of inhabitants, covers much less ground than an American city of considerably inferior population. In consequence of the flat surface on which the city stands, its drainage has presented some difficulties, but these have been overcome by a system of steam pumps, and I understand that now it is adequately sewered. As is well known, the successful termination of the Franco-German war, and the receipt of the milliards from France, excited a wild fever of speculation in Germany, especially in Berlin. Under its influence, the city received large accessions to its population, and new streets and quarters were rapidly built up. The reaction of 1873 burst the bubble, and ever since there has been the complaint of dull times common to all the rest of the world. Yet rents are not low, according to German standards, though moderate when judged by those prevailing in the large cities of the United States. The impression which one receives upon a first acquaintance with Berlin life is that the people are rigidly governed, and that the military spirit is the dominant one, and this impression certainly deepened in me the longer I remained. It is true that just now the state of affairs is somewhat exceptional, as Berlin is subject to what is called "the petty state of siege." In the excitement which followed the two attempts upon the Emperor's life in 1878, the Reichstag voted a very severe law against the Social-democrats, which placed very arbitrary powers in the hands of the military and police authorities, and permitted the Government at its discretion to treat cities, either as in an actual state of siege, which would deliver the people entirely over to the military law, or as in the condition of petty siege, which gives the police certain exceptional powers of search, arrest, and banishment. Immediately after my arrival in my hotel I was presented with a printed form, on which I was requested to write my full name, family position, place and date of birth, profession, religion, where last from, and, in addition, had to submit my passport to the inspection of the police. This procedure was repeated when I removed from the hotel to a private family. In this way the police keep a record of the movements of every person in the city. The whole life of Prussia is tinctured and impressed with the militarism, which has been its inheritance from the beginning. The drillmaster has made his mark in all directions. Military order, rigidity, obedience, and in a degree its arrogance, control social movements and relations. One would not be surprised at any moment in the crowded streets to hear the order to "fall in," and to see the entire male population march off in regiments. I could well understand that it was a natural movement for half a million of armed men to pour across the Rhine within a few days after war was declared. A glance at the map of Europe will show that the German Empire is a state without frontiers. On one side it is liable to be overrun by Russia, on the other by France, while in the south her jealous enemy, Austria, stands sullenly equipped for sudden war. The sad history of Germany shows that it has been made the battle-ground of Europe, and that her petty principalities have been the intriguing ground of the Great Powers. Prussia has finally grown to be the dominating force through her admirable military organization. It is before and above all else a military state, and has has been for two hundred years. Professor Gneist, in the debate recently had in the Reichstag upon the proposition to increase the army, showed that in the time of Frederick the Great two-thirds of the revenue of his kingdom was consumed by the military organization, but that since then there has been a gradual reduction, so that, as he asserted, they ought to consider themselves peculiarly fortunate, because only one-fifth is now required. With very few exceptions, indeed, the entire able bodied male population of Germany, between the ages of twenty and sixty, are soldiers, either in the active army or one of the reserve corps, and can be mobilized and made ready | ed. The bürger, or citizen, class was entirely for attack or defense in a very short time. It is asserted that in the War Department are notices all ready to be sent, on the instant, to every man liable to service, calling him to his place, and the entire organization is so well coordinated, and the place of each man and each thing is so well arranged in advance, that it would only require eight days to mobilize one million of soldiers and put in line the immense material at the disposition of the War Administration. At twenty years of age every man goes into the active army and serves three years, unless he has received a degree at a university, or has passed certain examinations, and in addition supports himself while in service-in which case he serves only one year, and is termed a "Freiwilliger." At the end of the three or one years' continuous service, as the case may be, the soldier goes back to civil life, and may pursue his vocation. Still, he remains a soldier. He is incorporated in the reserve, and must take his place in the ranks and serve six weeks in the year. He remains in the reserve four years, and then passes into the first van of the Landwehr for five years, and then for five years into the second van. He is at any time liable to be called on for active service up to his thirty-seventh year. After that he goes into the Landsturm, where his liability is to be called upon only for defensive warfare. Up to his sixtieth year he has a definite, fixed place in the military organization. As is well known, the present effective system grew out of the complete break-down of the army at Jena in 1806. When Napoleon had completely subdued Prussia he hoped to render her in the future helpless, and so he imposed the condition that thereafter her standing army should not exceed 42,000 men, which, relatively to the armaments of the surrounding powers, was manifestly a bagatelle, but General Scharnhorst avoided the effects of this restriction by devising the present scheme, which in a few years gave the greater part of the population a military training; so that when, in 1813, following upon the frightful retreat from Moscow, the Germans rose against Napoleon, the Prussians were able to put a large and effective army in the field, and were further able, in conjunction with their allies, to retrieve at the sanguinary battles around Leipsic the disgrace of Jena. The Prussian system is simply the levy en masse and an equalization of the heavy burdens of war. Before its introduction the rank and file were exclusively peasants, and the term of service was ten years. These poor people were forced into the service and most brutally treat exempt, and the nobility had the exclusive claim to officers' commissions. Even at this day, notwithstanding there is no legal exclusion of other classes, the officers are mostly noblemen or connected with the nobility. The career of arms is looked upon as the fit one for men of this class, and they are sufficiently numerous to largely monopolize its posts of honor. The consumption of one-fifth of the annual revenue in army support, and in addition the withdrawal of nearly every active, capable man from productive pursuits for a period of three years, are certainly heavy burdens, but yet the Germans willingly submit to them, because they know that their national life and unity are held only upon this hard tenure. The productive power of the country is not only impaired by actual loss of time of the soldier while under arms, but also because of the additional loss of time which is suffered while the handicraftsman is taking up and again making himself expert in his interrupted calling. This last point was emphasized by the Opposition in debates upon the last army bill. On the other hand, the army is, in a good way, an educator. It takes the raw peasantry and young citizens and trains them to promptness, order, and obedience. The discipline is severe, as any one can see who has watched the recruits on the drill-ground, but it is not degrading or exhausting, and at the end of his three years the young man is intellectually and physically in better trim than when he entered the service. That Prussia is a military state is impressed upon one at every turn. I recollect how strikingly it was symbolized to me one Sunday morning at the services in the Dome Church. The Emperor came into his loge. No other person was with him in his large compartment. Presently, when the clergyman commenced to read the liturgy, the congregation rose to its feet, and the old Emperor also arose and stood. His uniform was visible under the military cloak thrown back upon his shoulders, and he stood leaning upon the hilt of his sword, with his head inclined in prayer. It was a characteristic exhibition of the Prussian idea. In Prussia, the hand is always upon the sword, and God is worshiped according to the articles of war. The other great factor in Prussia, and, in fact, in all German life, is the bureaucratic system. Personal government has always heretofore been the rule; the present attempts in the direction of a parliamentary régime are really as yet only tentative. There has grown up an elaborate civil and police service, which penetrates into all the relations of life, and has de |