urs and more, with one brief intermission, we
listened, and lived as it were those last sad hours of the Life so
sacred and so majestic, so unutterably full of love. The end came,
when the stone was rolled against the sealed door of the sepulchre,
and the Roman watch was set. No hint of a resurrection was in the
music; but the singers sang, in closing, again and again, in varying
strains, "Good-night, good-night, dear Jesus!"

The audience, moved as it seemed by a common impulse, joined in that
last song. The Crown Prince, with the Crown Princess and their
daughters, and the Princess Christian, then on a visit to Berlin, were
in the royal box in the concert-room. With his family and his royal
visitors, Frederick, his voice already in the penumbra of a dim,
unknown, unforeseen, but fateful shadow, took up the strain. "He sang
it through," said a friend to me, who knew him well, "and I could see
that he was deeply touched." There we left the story, as almost
nineteen hundred years ago it was left, on that Friday evening in
Jerusalem, with the full light of the Paschal moon falling on the
closed and silent tomb, in the garden of Joseph of Arimathea.

Two days later, on the evening of Easter Sunday, the Crown Prince
united in the service of the English Church, with his family, in
celebrating the joyous anniversary of a sure resurrection, and during
the same week left Berlin in quest of rest and health. He came not
back until, before another Good Friday, "Unser Fritz" was Emperor of
Germany, and already walking through the Valley of that Shadow in
which he sorrowfully sung of his "dear Jesus," one short year before.

* * * * *

Various estimates have been made of the talents and character of the
third of the three German Emperors of the year 1888, but the record
and the proof of all prophecies concerning William II. have yet to be
made. As Prince William we saw him with best opportunity in the
Imperial box at the Reichstag, where for three hours he listened
intently to the speeches of Bismarck, Von Moltke, and others. A fair
young man, in the heavily ornamented light blue uniform of his
regiment, to a casual observer his countenance bore neither the marks
of dissipation nor the signs of intellectual power and force of
character. But he was only in the late twenties, and "there is time
yet." He is the idol of the army, and the devoted friend of Bismarck.
Not one of all the great concourse of