efore the car stops. Nothing is left to chance or muddle
in Berlin, and unless you are a born fool you cannot go astray. If you
are a born fool you ask a policeman, as you would at home, and find
another dear illusion shattered. He does not draw his sword, he is
neither gruff nor disobliging. He greets you with the military salute,
and calls you gracious lady. Then he answers your question if he can.
If not he gets out the little guide book he carries, and patiently
hunts up the street or the building you want. He is usually a
good-natured rosy faced young man with a fair moustache, and he will
do anything in the world for you except control the traffic. That with
the best will in the world he cannot do. So he stands in the midst of
it and smiles. Sometimes he sits amidst it on a horse and looks
solemn. But he never impresses himself on it. There is a story of a
policeman who went to London to learn from our men what to do, and who
bemoaned his fate when he got back. "I hold up my hand in just the
same way," he said, "and then the people run and the horses run, and
there's a smash and I get put in prison." The Berliners themselves say
that they are not accustomed yet, as we have been for years, to regard
the police as their well-liked and trusted servants, and to obey
their directions willingly. However this may be, there is at present
only one safe way of getting to the opposite side of a busy street in
Berlin, and that is to wait till a crowd gathers and charges across it
in a bunch like a swarm of bees.

Berlin is never asleep, and it is as light by night as by day. It is
much pleasanter for a woman without escort to come out of the theatre
there than in London. She will find crowds of respectable people with
her, and they will not depart in their own cabs and carriages. They
will crowd into the electric cars, and she must know which car she
wants and crowd with them. The worst that can happen to her will be to
find her car over-crowded, and in that case she must not expect a man
to give her his seat. I have seen a young German lady make an old lady
take her place, but I have never known men yield their seats to women.
You do not see as many private carriages in Berlin in a week as you do
in some parts of London in an hour. Even in front of the Opera House
very few will be in waiting; and there is no fashionable hour for
riding and driving in the Tiergarten. I know too little about horses
to judge of those that were