ready by his orders in the old
Palace of Potsdam close at hand, at last received its burden, and was
borne in Spartan simplicity to this place, the torch-lighted band
playing his favorite dirge,--

"Oh, Sacred Head, now wounded!"

On the right, separated from the coffin of his father only by the
short aisle, is that of Frederick the Great. Three wreaths were lying
upon it,--placed there by the Emperor and by the Crown Prince and the
Crown Princess on the hundredth anniversary of the death of this
founder of Prussia's greatness, August 17, 1886. Fortunate is the
visitor to Potsdam who does not altogether overlook this Garrison
Church, misled by the brief mention usually accorded to it in the
guide-books.

The Friedenskirche, near the entrance to the park of Sans Souci, has a
detached high clock-tower adjoining, and cloisters beautiful, even in
winter, with the myrtle and ivy and evergreens of the protected court
which they surround. In the inner court is a copy of Thorwaldsen's
celebrated statue of Christ (the original at Copenhagen); also,
Rauch's original "Moses, supported by Aaron and Hur," and a beautiful
_Pieta_ is in the opposite colonnade. The church is in the form of the
ancient basilica, which is not favorable to much adornment. A crucifix
of _lapis lazuli_ under a canopy resting on jasper columns--a present
from the Czar Nicholas--stands on the marble altar. A beautiful angel
in Carrara marble adorns the space before the chancel, above the
burial-slabs of King Frederick William IV., founder of the church, and
his queen; and the apse is lined with a rare old Venetian mosaic. But
the chief interest of this "Church of Peace" will henceforth centre
around it as the burial-place of the Emperor Frederick III. In an
apartment not formerly shown to the public, his young son, Waldemar,
was laid to rest at the age of eleven years, deeply mourned by the
Crown Prince, the Crown Princess, and their family. Here in this
church, beside his sons Waldemar and Sigismund, who died in infancy,
it was the wish of the dying father to lie buried. Here the quiet
military funeral service was held; here the last look of that noble
face was taken amid the tears of those who loved him well, while the
sunlight, suddenly streaming through an upper window, illuminated as
with an electric light that face at rest, as the Court-preacher Koegel
uttered the words of solemn trust,--

"What God doeth is well done."

Fitting it is th