rent, that sunny spring morning, but we were on the eve of
a catastrophe which apparently no one foreboded; Metz, Gravelotte, and
Sedan were only a few months away. The fire which I saw burning so hot
in the souls of both speaker and hearers was part of the conflagration
destined to consume widely and thoroughly before the summer closed.

Ernst Curtius was probably the most distinguished Hellenist of his
time. He had studied the Greeks on their own soil and gone with German
thoroughness into their literature, history, and art. He had excellent
powers of presentment, wrote exhaustively and yet attractively and won
early recognition. He was selected for the post of tutor to the Crown
Prince, an honour of the highest. The Crown Prince, afterwards Emperor
Frederick, held him in high regard and in 1870 his position in the
world of scholars was of the best. I had the honour to pay him a visit
in his home one pleasant Sunday afternoon in company with Bancroft. I
remember Bancroft's crisp German enunciation as he presented me; "Ich
stelle Ihnen einen Amerikaner vor," and he mentioned my name. I bowed
and felt my hand grasped cordially in a warm, well-conditioned palm,
while a round, genial face beamed good-naturedly. The interview was in
the Professor's handsome garden, his accomplished wife and daughters
were of the party, and I remember _Maiwein_ with pretzels on a
lawn with rose-bushes close beside and music coming through the open
windows of the house. The hospitality was graceful, there was no
profound talk but only pleasant chatter. The daughters were glad to
have a chance to try their English and I was glad for the moment to
slip out of the foreign bond and disport myself for their benefit in
my vernacular, but the Professor needed no practice. His English was
quite adequate, as, on the other hand, the German of Bancroft was well
in hand.

"What other university people would you like to see?" said Bancroft to
me one day. I mentioned von Ranke, Lepsius, and Mommsen as men whose
names were familiar, whose faces I should like to look upon.

"Find out the _sprech-stunden_ of these men," said Bancroft to
his secretary, and presently a slip was put into my hand containing
the hours at which I could be conveniently received. Following the
direction, I was one day admitted to the library of von Ranke, a plain
apartment walled by books from floor to ceiling, with a desk well-worn
by days and nights of work. As I awaited his ent