, when she reached Berlin with
a scanty knowledge of German, her mastery of French secured numerous
pleasant things. She often told us how highly French was valued in the
capital, and we must believe that the language possesses an imperishable
charm for Germans when we remember that this was the case so shortly
after the glorious uprising against the terrible despotism of France.
True, French, in addition to its melody and ambiguity, possesses more
subtle turns and apt phrases than most other languages; and even the
most German of Germans, our Bismarck, must recognize the fitness of its
phrases, because he likes to avail himself of them. He has a perfect
knowledge of French, and I have noticed that, whenever he mingles
it with German, the former has some sentence which enables him to
communicate in better and briefer language whatever he may desire to
express. What German form of speech, for instance, can convey the idea
of fulness which will permit no addition so well as the French popular
saying, "Full as an egg," which pleased me in its native land, and
which first greeted me in Germany as an expression used by the great
chancellor?

My mother's solicitude concerning good manners and perfection
in speaking French, which so easily renders children mere dolls,
fortunately could not deprive us of our natural freshness and freedom
from constraint. But if any peril to the character does lurk in being
unduly mindful of external forms, we three brothers were destined to
spend a large portion of our boyhood amid surroundings which, as
it were, led us back to Nature. Besides, even in Berlin we were not
forbidden to play like genuine boys. We had no lack of playmates of
both sexes, and with them we certainly talked and shouted no French, but
sturdy Berlin German.

In winter, too, we were permitted to enjoy ourselves out of doors, and
few boys made handsomer snow-men than those our worthy Kurschner--always
with the order in his buttonhole--helped us build in Thiergartenstrasse.

In the house we were obliged to behave courteously, and when I recall
the appearance of things there I become vividly aware that no series
of years witnessed more decisive changes in every department of life in
Germany than those of my boyhood. The furnishing of the rooms differed
little from that of the present day, except that the chairs and tables
were somewhat more angular and the cushions less comfortable. Instead of
the little knobs of the elec