flags
and blazing illuminations made noonday brightness and gayety about the
palace of the Chancellor, but most passing through the Brandenburg
Gate. The massive Doric columns of this impressive structure were in
darkness, but the Chariot of Victory with its fine bronze horses,
surmounting the gate, was weird with the scarlet light of Bengal
fires burning on the entablature.

As the artist rests his eyes by the spot of neutral gray which he
keeps for the purpose on wall or palette, so brain and eye were
prepared for sleep at the close of this long day, by sitting in our
carriages, safe sheltered from the soft-falling rain, outside the
great gate which divided the splendor from the darkness, for three
quarters of an hour, in an inextricable tangle of carriages, until the
perturbed coachmen and the sorely vexed police could evolve order from
the temporary confusion, and set the hindered procession again on its
homeward way.

Meantime the day was not over for the much-enduring Emperor and his
royal guests. In the famous White Saloon of the Old Schloss an
entertainment was going forward. Blinding coronets and necklaces on
royal ladies made the interior of this ancient palace more brilliant
than its shining exterior on this birth-night. The Empress Augusta,
leaning on the arm of her grandson, Prince William, was attired in a
lace-trimmed robe of pale green, her diamonds a mass of sparkling
light; the Crown Princess was in silver-gray, the wife of the English
Ambassador in pale mauve, the Princess Christian in turquoise blue;
and the Grand Duchess Vladimir of Russia wore a magnificent robe of
pink satin trimmed with sable, with a tiara of diamonds and a
stomacher of diamonds and emeralds. From the neck and forehead of the
Queen of Roumania flashed a thousand prismatic hues; and the Green
Vault of Dresden sent some of its most precious treasures to keep
company with the fair Queen of Saxony in adding brilliance to the
scene.

Our reverie led from this starry point in history back to the time
when, as on this memorable day, the royal salute of Berlin artillery
shook the city, to announce the birth of a prince ninety years ago. A
rapid, almost a chance recall of the years shows us Washington then
living on his estate at Mount Vernon, Lafayette a young man of forty,
Clay a stripling of twenty, Webster a boy of fifteen. The Directory in
France had not yet made way for the First Republic; the younger Pitt
and Canning held Eng