by continuous bad health towards the close of his career, and he died in 1878.

Five hundred pounds damages! Confound them! They never did me the slightest amount of good. First a firm of solicitors discovered that I was in their debt for a bill of costs for eighty pounds, contracted some years previously, and not with respect to any matter of litigation, and this I paid with resignation. Then a worthy tradesman, who had supplied me with a large quantity of china, earthenware, and glass when I furnished my house in Guilford Street, remembered that I owed him a hundred and fifty pounds, and that the debt was within a very few weeks of annihilation by the Statute of Limitations. Him also did I pay. On this followed even more irritating, though not pecuniarily afflictive, applications from all sorts and conditions of people, imploring, and sometimes bullying, me to lend them large or small sums of money. Blackmailing had not then reached. the dimensions of a fine art; or perhaps I should have been the victim of a little chantage. These wretched damages so preyed upon my mind that, to relieve me, the Daily Telegraph sent me to Berlin to witness the opening of the German Parliament.

The function was to me a deeply interesting one. The session was opened in the famous White Hall of the Schloss, and I had the advantage of hearing a speech from Prince Bismarck. The delivery of the ex-Chancellor seemed to me extremely rapid; but, indifferent German scholar as I have always been, I

could understand almost all he said. In particular did I notice the occasional shrillness of the Chancellor's voice, all the more remarkable from the massive frame of the orator. We had, of We had, of course, a resident course, a resident correspondent in the Prussian capital, and, under his auspices, I saw a good deal of manners and customs in Berlin. Specially do I remember a Tabaks Collegium and Beer Symposium of students of the University. Considering the amount of smoke from porcelain pipes by which I was surrounded for four hours, I only wonder that on the following morning I did not find myself transformed into a kippered salmon or a Yarmouth bloater.

As for the beer, which they drank incessantly, I may in passing say that I consider beer to be one of the most delicious of beverages, but that I have never been able to drink it with impunity. The courteous Burschen, however, recognised, although they may have secretly reprehended, my infirmity in this respect; and I was regaled with hock, and allowed to smoke cigars instead of a pipe. They told me what "Philistine" meant, together with much more student lore; and then, about eleven by the clock, we began to sing songs. First came the Wacht am Rhein; next, Prinz Eugen, der alte Ritter; then Körner's Gebet, and his Song of the Sword; and then a young fellow full six feet high, with auburn hair, sang with great solemnity the exquisitely humorous Studenten Lied about the bibulous party who, for three whole days, did nothing but drink beer at a tavern at Ascalon; until at length he lay stiff and stark as a poker on a marble bench.

I was asked to sing. I did not venture on the Teutonic; but I gave my friends, in English, Mrs. Abdy's beautiful song, "The Rhine," founded on the anecdote that when the German armies, returning victorious from the occupation of Paris, in 1814, arrived at the bridge of Kehl and beheld their beloved river, they uttered one tremendous and unanimous shout, "Der Rhein !-der Rhein!" and rushed forward at the double quick to salute the historic stream.

Another interesting social service did our resident correspondent in Berlin render me. He obtained a permit to visit the fortress of Spandau, where there were confined as prisoners of war some thousands of French soldiers, most of them belonging to the unfortunate, and perhaps betrayed, garrison of Metz. I found these brave men comfortably housed in light and cheerful day-rooms, and spacious and well-ventilated dormitories; and I was present at their dinner, which was abundant in the way of boiled meat, suet pudding, and vegetables. I was informed, however, that breaches of the regulations were visited by confinement in the casemates of the citadel, and by restricted rations. Some hundreds of the captives, after dinner, took to card-playing; and, as most of them were penniless, the loser paid his indebtedness by receiving a certain number of playful pats on the cheek from the winner. Their principal need was tobacco; and my friend and I had come provided with a good stock both of tobacco for pipes, and cheap cigars, which were almost rapturously received when they were distributed.

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CHAPTER LII.

IN ST. PAUL'S AND AT CHISLEHURST.

The Prince of Wales's Illness-The Thanksgiving Service-The Tichborne Claimant Again-His Coolness-Funeral of Napoleon III.-Illness—A Resourceful Doctor-Walking Over One's Own Feet.

RETURNING to London, I went "into collar again," and did not again leave England, save for my usual autumnal vacation at Homburg, during the rest of the year 1871. I was present professionally at the opening, by the Prince of Wales, of the first International Exhibition at South Kensington, and at the opening, by Her Majesty the Queen, on the 21st of June, of the new St. Thomas's Hospital.

Everybody knows what took place towards the close of the year 1871. At the opening of St. Thomas's Hospital, Mr. Ernest Hart, by whom I was seated, close to the throne, observed that the Prince of Wales was not well: he was continually sneezing. Some weeks afterwards it was reported that His Royal Highness was out of health, and then, for many weeks, he was afflicted by a dreadful illness, somewhat resembling that which had carried off his illustrious father. The death of the Prince Consort had been altogether a surprise; but week after week did the whole British nation tremble lest a fatal end should come to the illness of the beloved Heir to the Crown; and one great sigh of relief

and joy arose from the national heart when the crisis was successfully passed, and when the news ran like wildfire through the land that the Prince, sitting up in bed, had asked for a glass of Norfolk ale. I was present at the memorable Thanksgiving Service in St. Paul's Cathedral, on the 22nd of February, 1872. The Dean considerately set apart for the representatives of the press a spacious gallery, whence we could witness the entire proceedings, which I refrain from describing in detail, seeing that they can be found in the "Annual Register," or in any file of London newspapers. was, so far as costume went, a superb spectacle, and the Judges in their scarlet, the Lord Mayor and Corporation in their robes, the clergy in their canonicals, with a plentiful admixture of naval and military uniforms, made the bravest of brave shows: to say nothing of the crowning glories of the presence of the Sovereign, the Prince of Wales and the Royal Family, and a stately Court.

It

Still, the environments of this gorgeous array were chilly and devoid of an essential element of splendour— bright light. St. Paul's can never be anything more, so far as its interior is concerned, than a frigid and poorlyillumined edifice. Dr. Johnson likened it to a "sundial in a grave. The architecture and the statuary are alike cold, and lacking in the picturesque; and although a good deal has been done within recent years in partial mosaic decorations, it is not probable that in our time, at least, sufficient funds will be obtainable for completely garnishing the superb structure—