cted from the tramp of visitors by immense felt
slippers, into which all are required to thrust their shoes, and in
which one goes gliding noiselessly over the polished surfaces in a way
to save the floors, but not always to conserve the dignity or gravity
of those unaccustomed to the process. Many of the rooms are highly
decorated, and memorials of the history of Prussia abound. There are
many paintings, of which most are portraits or battle scenes, the
picture gallery proper containing the pictures connected with Prussian
history, and the Kings' and Queens' chambers the portraits of all the
sovereigns. The Chamber of the Cloth of Gold and the Old Throne Room
are highly ornamented, and contain massive gold and silver mementos of
former kings and of Emperor William's long career. Here also is the
great crystal chandelier which once hung in the Hall of the Conclave
at Worms, and under which Luther stood when he made the immortal
declaration, "Hier stehe ich; ich kann nicht andere; helfe mir Gott.
Amen." In the White Hall court balls are held, and here sometimes has
gathered the Parliament to be opened by the Emperor. It is said that
when lighted up by its nearly three thousand wax candles for a court
festival, the scene in this hall is extremely brilliant.

Charlottenburg has been anew endeared to the public by the pathos of
the home-coming of Emperor Frederick III., who took up his first
Imperial residence in this suburban palace, and from an upper window
of which he watched the funeral procession of his venerable sire as it
passed to the mausoleum. This only son and heir to a great throne
might not follow the bier of the father to its resting-place, but
gazed alone from the palace at the mournful pageant, knowing that the
time could not be far distant when the same sad ceremonials would be
repeated for himself. Who shall say what were the thoughts of the
manly Frederick III., as, when wife and children had joined the sad
procession which wound its way northward through that grand but sombre
avenue of stately pines which leads from the palace of Charlottenburg
to the beautiful marble mausoleum where Kaiser Wilhelm was laid to
rest beside his mother and his father, the sick man stood immovably at
that upper window, following only with his eyes, and with no spoken
word, the drama in which himself was the central and most pathetic
figure!

Charlottenburg is a suburb some two or three miles southwest of
Berlin, practicall