runs a stranger child, oh how swiftly through the city, on Christmas eve to see the beautiful lights that are flashing from many a Christmas tree. He stops before every house, and sees the bright rooms, in which boldly stand out the lampful trees. Woe is to the poor child everywhere. He weeps and says, 'to-night every child has its little tree, its light and joy- I alone have none. In this strange land I am forgotten. Will no one let me come in, and just afford me room for my cold feet? In all these bright houses, is there no corner for the stranger child?" He knocks at a door, but there is no voice to answer; no kindly hand to welcome. Every father thinks of his own children, and every mother is busy about the gifts. Then said the little stranger, 'O dear and holy Christ, I have no father, no mother, if thou art not these to me! Be thou my counseller, for here am I forgotten.' He rubs his cold hands, he lingers in the long desolate streets, with his eyes cast up to heaven. But look! there comes up yonder street, waving a light before him, another child in smooth white raiment, and hair that clusters in golden ringlets round his fair young brow. How musical is his voice when he says, 'I am the Holy Christ—again I am once more a child, always on this happy evening. Though all forget thee, I will never forget thee. I offer my protection as well in the streets, as in the lighted houses. Thy light little stranger, I will cause to shine in the open space so fair, that none in the rooms shall be brighter.' Then waved the Christ child his hand towards heaven, and forth stood glittering overhead with many branches, a shining tree glorious with a host of stars. Bright little angels bent down from the branches, and drew up the poor child into the starry space, and so was he ever with the Christ child."

Now how much more beautiful and significant is this lovely creation of "the Christ Child," than our rude and tasteless Santa Claus, who is nothing more than a kind of annual chimney sweep, or rather half chimney sweep, half Jew pedlar. The Christmas legends of Germany, have all an appropriateness to the great festival to be celebrated. It is the eve of the Saviour's birth, whose advent Gabriel himself came down too to tell, whose natal morn was greeted by the angel hosts, in strains of more than mortal melody. As he grew in years, love for little children was a distinguishing trait in his serenely beautiful character. He never allowed an opportunity to pass, that he did not bless them, or improve their presence to his disciples by some beautiful allusion. If he set a little child in their midst, it was only to exclaim, "unless ye be converted and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven." And when he rebuked his disciples who would have kept them away, it was only to utter those sublime words, which have so often refreshed the heart of the stricken mother-"Suffer little children to come unto Me, and forbid them not, for of such is the Kingdom of Heaven." Therefore, how strikingly beautiful, and how appropriate to the festive season is this German legend, that the gentle Saviour once more becoming a little child, comes on the eve of Christmas to every hearthstone, and places on the shining Christmas tree those gifts, which make the heart of the German child so happy, and add fresh lustre to his wondering eyes.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE ENVIRONS OF BERLIN.

Charlottenburg-Mausoleum to the Queen of Prussia-Her His Tomb of Frederick the Great-The New Pa

tory-Potsdam

THE pretty little village of Charlottenburg, with its country-seats and picturesque looking avenues, is about three miles from Berlin. Passing through the Branden. burg Gate, you arrive at the village after a pleasant ride for the most part of the way through the spacious avenue dividing the Thier Garten, which stretches almost to Charlottenburg. There is an air of elegance and a character of aristocracy about this village. In the summer season it is a favorite resort of the citizens of Berlin. The palace built here was erected by Frederick I., who married an English princess, Sophia Charlotte, daughter of George I., and gave the name to the place in compliment to his wife; although this, I believe, was the only compliment he ever paid her. The gardens behind the Palace are very extensive, and laid out with great taste and beauty. The entrance to them is through the orangery, at the extremity of which may be seen the graceful front of a small theatre, where plays are performed for the summer diversion of their majesties. These beautiful gardens are open to the public, and as they abound in shady walks, varied by artificial lakes, afford a delightful shelter and place of amusement to the citizens of Berlin during the heat of the summer months. Some of these lakes abound in carp of

immense size and great age, many of them having passed their hundredth year. On the occasion of my visit, one of these venerable denizens was pointed out to me, wearing a bell round his neck, said to have been placed there by the father of Frederick the Great. He had received one of the three warnings, being stone blind; but his hearing was evidently acute, as he was guided to the bread thrown in the water by the noise made when it fell; and as for his appetite, it appeared equally voracious with that of his younger brethren. The greatest object of interest however to be found in the grounds belonging to this Palace is the Mausoleum, where repose the remains of Louisa, Queen of Prussia, and those of her weak but unfortunate husband. You come suddenly upon a white Doric temple, that might be deemed a mere adornment of the grounds—a spot sacred to seclusion: but the presence of the mournful cypress, and the weeping willow, declare it to be the habitation of the dead. In this temple, so solemn by the subdued light of its interior, on a marble sarcophagus, reclines a sculptured figure of the Queen. It is, a portrait statue, and is said to be a perfect resemblance, not as she was in death, but when she lived to bless, and to be blessed. Nothing can be more calm and kind than the expression of the features. The hands are folded on the bosom, the limbs are sufficiently crossed to show the repose of life. She does but sleep; indeed, she scarce can be said to sleep, for her mind and heart are on her sweet lips. One could sit soothed for hours by the side of this marble form — it breathes such purity and peace. A simple drapery, perfect in every fold, shrouds the figure. Louisa is said to have. been the the most beautiful woman of her day—and one can readily believe it, looking down upon this noble effort of the sculptor's skill, which radiant with beauty as it is,

scarcely does full justice to the lovely features of Queen Louisa. The history of this unfortunate Princess is a most interesting and affecting one. She said of herself, shortly before her death: "Posterity will not set down my name among celebrated women, but whoever knows the calamities of these times will say of me, she suffered much, and suffered with constancy. And may aftertimes be able to add, she gave birth to children who deserved better days, who struggled to bring them round, and at last succeeded." What a life of startling vicissitude was hers! How full of heart-stirring incident! What sufferings she endured! What resolution she displayed in the midst of her misfortunes! What recuperative energy she brought to bear after every defeat! All these have been written of her, and to her honor in the pages of Prussian history. It was the influence of this noble-minded woman, every inch a Queen, that brought Prussia into the field in 1806; and it was the ignominy and scorn heaped upon her by an insolent conqueror, that made every corner of Prussia burn with unextinguishable hate against the French. Trusting in the courage and energy of the nation, she accompanied the King to the army, but retired to a place of safety immediately after the battle of Jena, so disastrous to the Prussians. Before that battle she parted with her husband in tears, and they never met again in happiness. Suffering in mind and body she went down to Tilsit during the negociations that followed, much it is said, against her own inclinations; but she hoped by the charm of her presence that the heart of the conqueror might be softened, that conqueror who had insolently declared in ten years his dynasty would be the oldest in Europe. That interview resulted however in nothing except to extort from Napoleon a tribute to the Queen, which coming