entertainment, separated from Berlin by a meadow and an arm of the Spree, lies a woody ground called the Hasen, or Hareheath, where soldiers and citizens practice shooting at a mark, and where are to be found bowling-greens, billiard-tables, chairs and tables under green trees, ham, sandwiches, and beer-glasses a foot and a half high; besides many a pretty little retired spot for confidential communications, where

there are no other lookers-on than the little birds in the trees, or the butterflies on the grass. Proceeding along the Land-wehr, an arm of the Spree, with banks gay with blooming flowers, and in summer animated by the presence of thousands of bathers, we come to the pretty village of Treptou, and perceive on the other side of the river its equally pretty opposite neighbor, Stralau, the trees and the gay pleasure-gardens of both mirrored in the broad Spree, which is covered with boats and heavy-laden barges.

Williams' Place, bordered with ancient limetrees, where the stone heroes of the Seven Years' War stand dreaming of their heroic exploits, are worthy of mention.

The "Long Bridge" across the Spree connects the new and the old, the elegant and fashionable, with the busy and toiling Berlin-what we may call the drawing-room and the workshop of the city; although it is true that of late the railroads have in some measure confounded this distinction, by giving an air of bustle and business to the aristocratic indolence of the Friedrichstadt..

This bridge leads into the ancient city of Berlin-founded by Albrecht the Bear, the noisiest and most bustling quarter of the town. In the narrow winding pass of the Konigs Strasse (King's Street) with its high houses, there is from morning till night no moment of quiet or rest from the unceasing throng and rattle of wheels. From this quarter comes all that supplies the material From here, continuing the circuit of Berlin, wants of the city, and here also are the we pass through corn and potato-fields, to courts of law, the police-offices, most of the the Frankfort gate, and thence, with little prisons, the distilleries, the great mass of the variation, again to the Brandenburg gate. shops for provisions, and the dwellings of Seldom here is the monotony of sand-hills, the working-classes. The other quarters of windmills, dusty roads, and flat corn-fields the town are not so strikingly distinguished interrupted by anything as pretty as a plea- from each other as these two; in them we sure-garden or as interesting as a cemetery find newly built palaces rising and looking adorned with monuments, fragrant with flow-down proudly on the huts where misery finds ers, and shaded by weeping willows, oaks, a refuge. and limes; though the railroads have done something to enliven this desolate region, through which lies the way to many villages that form favorite objects for the ruralizing parties of the Berliners.

Having now reached, again, the point from which we set out, we may enter the Brandenburg gate, by which, also, the Goddess of Victory, in a chariot and four, is making her triumphal entry, and pass along, between lines of palace-like edifices, which flank the celebrated promenade "beneath the Limes" (Unter den Linden), to the royal palace, which the author denominates the heart of Berlin-the central point of its whole circulation, as the quarter of the Friedrichstadt, containing the spiritual organs-the university-the academy-the theatres, &c., may represent the head. From the palace gardens a fine view is obtained of the magnificent buildings of the museum, the cathedral, the arsenal, the palace of the late king, of the Prince of Prussia, the opera-house, &c. The "Gens-d'armes Markt" is one of the finest open places to be seen in any city of Europe; and the verdant and flowery crescent of the Leipsiger Strasse, and the dark, solemn,

There are few cities according to Mr. Brennglas, where people work harder than in Berlin. The tradesmen and mechanics are generally busy till a late hour; the employées of the government are perpetually at their desks, though a great deal of what they write might as well be spoken. There are few professed idlers, and in scarcely any of the hotels and coffee-houses are people to be found, as in Paris or Vienna, playing at cards, billiards, or dominoes from morning till night; the coffee-houses are only busy in the middle of the day and in the evening; but on the other hand, the confectioners are very numerous and on a grand scale. Their shops, however, afford, as we have said, other attractions besides the tarts and cakes. But let us take a glance at life in Berlin as it exhibits itself in the streets.

"It is four o'clock in the morning. The old grey-bearded watchman, wrapped in furs, armed with a spear, and carrying a horn, wakes himself up for the last time to cry the hour, and then Presently the washerwoman, in large fluttering leaves the approaching day to take care of itself. cap and cotton apron, is seen lighting herself along to her daily toil with a little lantern; the

subalterns of the Berlin and English Gas Company hastily extinguish their lamps, and wonder that the sun will consent to shine for nothing; the bakers' apprentices open the shops of their opulent masters, and then go round with their carts to the various public houses of entertainment with their allowance of daily bread, as well as daily biscuits, rolls and rusks. Soon come in from the country the peasants' carts, some drawn by horses, and some by dogs, and filled by peasant women looking tired already. Here and there a door opens creaking, as if unwilling to begin its day's work; the houses seem to rub their eyes and shake themselves-bolts and bars fly backwindows open-man goeth forth to his work and his labor until the evening--and the world sets about to make another page of universal history."

Let us look a little closer at some of the figures that make up the moving picture. Among the earliest abroad are the humble class of traders who make a living by bring ing sand from the environs to supply the kitchens of Berlin.

"A lad of eighteen, and one about three years younger, are in possession of a machine made of four boards, nailed together, which has just as good a right to be reckoned among carts as some certain German contrivances have to be called constitutions. Before this vehicle there plods along slowly, with sunken head and projecting bones, a venerable horse, which has been bought in the market for the sum of two-and-twopence. The appearance of the owners harmonizes well with that of these their animate and inanimate possessions.

"How then?'

“Don't you see, stupid? If a fellow's ever so rich and so proud, he dies and goes to dust—so, I hold now in my fist, you see, Peter, the stuff that You know, Peter, in the first book of the Bible it may have once made half-a-dozen blockheads. says how man was formed of the dust of the ground.'

"Yes,' says the critical Peter,' but I've never been able to make it out. Dust won't hold together you see-it has no constitution, as one may say.'

"Oh, I'll tell you, Peter! Of course God Almighty must have taken a little water to mix with it; man must have some kind of moisture; he can't do without that.':

This Peter is willing to admit, and the elder partner pursues his meditations, and moralizes on the fact of having the remains of officers, privy-counsellors, ministers, watchmen, poets, and many more, all mingled indiscriminately together to be sold for a few groschen the bushel.

"Well! I didn't think now men had been so cheap. We ought to put it in the paper.'

"The sand-boy is lightly attired, that is to say, without coat or boots, but he has a colored waistcoat, a very colored one, for it was several colored waistcoats before it became one; its history, therefore, is the reverse of that of our German fatherland. The waistcoat is almost wholly unbuttoned, and leaves fully displayed a shirt, which perhaps has no very obvious claims to public notice, and "Yes, and there's something else I've been the sand-boy also wears what we must call trow-thinking of. The gentlefolks have this sand sers, possibly to prevent the aforesaid shirt from strewed upon their floors, and that's the way, you fluttering in the wind, for I have not been able to see, they learn to trample men under their feet.'" perceive any other purpose that they answer. If, however, any fair lady should see anything objectionable in them, I must remind her that it is by no means improbable that the sand-boy might, on similar grounds, remonstrate against her costume at the evening party last night.

In the early morning, then, the two young commercial gentlemen (the firm of Fritz and Co.) are seated in their equipage, and are taking their accustomed way through the Halle gate to the Kreutzberg; but as soon as they have the town behind them, they take out two very short pipes, fill them with tobacco, and begin to smoke. The odor emitted by the weed might be thought peculiar, but it cannot be otherwise than agreeable, for

In most of the great cities of Germany, the privileges of bakers, butchers, &c., are sold at a high price, so they require considerable capital, and make a proportionate profit.

Amidst these ethical and metaphysical reflections, the sand-dealers have filled their cart, for which, be it observed, they had purchased a permission from government, and are soon once more in the streets of the city, uttering their accustomed cry of "sand! sand! Fine white sand!" They are not long before a red-cheeked servant-girl signifies her wish to enter into a business transaction with them; and here we are tempted to give a specimen of dialogue in the original, that our readers may see what kind of tongue passes for German in Berlin.

"Ju'n Morjen Jungfer.'
"Ich bin deine Jungfer nich.'
"Nu worum den nich?
noch nischt jedhan!'

Ick habe jhnen doch

er, he will be seen again in full bloom in the fashionable world. It is now the middle of the day--carriages are rolling along to the favorite drives-droshkies are tearing through the streets from the railways; in the hotels all hands are full, and all legs in motion. Here students are studying the last communistic and atheistic pamphlets; there gens d'armes are going to levy a distress, and

66 Fritz goes and examines the sand. "Ne! Da find keene Steener mang den Sand, take away the beds from a poor family; dais sand mang de Steener!"

After a long and keen encounter of wit, and a passionate declaration of love on the part of the merchant, he sells two-pennyworth of sand and goes on his way rejoicing to his next customer.

many shops fill with customers, many eyes fill with tears; loungers stand sauntering before the windows of print-shops, or look into booksellers to find out at least the titles of the new books, (often, the best part of them ;) people drive or ride to the Thiergarten, or

66

the Limes," or pay visits, and gossip, and cheat, and flirt, as usual. On the benches, under the trees, young men sit talking of the progress of the species and the "absolute idea." All over the town postmen with their yellow collars and cuffs are running up and down stairs, with their bundles of hopes and fears, and disappointments, and plans and wishes; and there on the bridge stands an unfortunate father of a family, gazing into the dark waters of the Spree, which, perhaps, before this time to-morrow, will be flowing over his lifeless body.

Berlin is now broad awake. The droshkies are beginning to move in long rows towards the various railroads; military bands march through the streets playing lively airs; officers in showy costume come prancing along on full-blood horses; perhaps a hearse followed by six mourning coaches (Berlin takes great pride in its mourning coaches) and ten or twelve carriages, trails slowly towards the gate on its way to the cemetery; the hawkers of fruit, vegetables, and fish are in full cry; the handmaids of Clio-videlicet, the young women in the employ of the newsvenders-run about from house to house with their baskets full of intelligence; and the numerous shoe-blacks hasten from one furnished lodging to another, to perform their daily service for single gentlemen, and polish and purify-alas! only the outward man. There is one going into that lodging-house who has nine mastersone literary gentleman, two lawyers, two Hofräthe, one student, two barons, and one tradesman--for whom he performs more or less of the services of a valet. When he merely brushes clothes and clean shoes, he receives a consideration of rather more than two shillings per month; and when he runs on errands, perhaps two or three times that sum; and, besides this, Heaven sends him odd jobs and presents here and there, so that, as his claims on life are not exorbitant, he is cheerful and content, and seldom in want of money, as the young Baron to whom he is now going always is. The dandy is still in bed with parched lips, a fevered pulse, and dark shadows round his eyes; he looks but poorly now, but when he has made his toil* The polite practice of pulling off the hat to acette, and given audience to his hair-dresser, quaintances in the street, was not long ago carried his boot-maker, his tailor-or perhaps a leto such excess in Berlin, as to lead to the establishment of a society with the above title, with a view gal functionary who has come on this occato save the enormous consumption of beaver, and sion in his stead--and to a Jew money-lend-weariness of muscle consequent on this courtesy.

The sun is setting. People come pouring out of the shops of the Swiss confectioners; the " Correspondents from Berlin" looking pleased, for they have picked up intelligence enough to furnish matter for the next post for their respective papers; Republicans, Democrats, Socialists, repair to private rooms to finish their discussions; a solitary adherent of absolute monarchy goes home by himself, and takes with him some bonbons for his wife, Where are these various groups bound for? For the concerts-the winter garden-the Italian opera-the French theatre-the mercantile and scientific lecturers--the anti-champagne club-the "Keep-on-your-hat Society"*-to the saloons, to the Colosseum, to musical meetings--to Polytechnic, Statistical, Geographical, Philological, Antiquarian, Religious, Temperance, Social, or Benevolent Associations. Faint lights are twinkling from garret-windows, where poor mechanics are still hard at work, and will be for hours to come

-theatres are brilliantly illuminated--car- | riages drive through the streets to balls and parties--political toasts are received with three times three--and the night watchman comes out again, calls "past ten o'clock," and sees that on his beat all the street-doors are shut. Gens d'armes order merry gentlemen to take their cigars out of their mouths-a doctor's carriage drives rapidly past"there is some one determined not to die without medical assistance"-here, in this ground-floor dwelling, you can hear a dispute going on about the German Catholicsfrom others come songs in favor of liberty.

Gradually the streets become more and more silent, dark, and lonely, carriages return from parties-eleven o'clock, twelve o'clock strikes the last hackney-coaches go nodding wearily home to their stables-the last cigar-shops put up their shutters-in the hotels and wine-houses there is still noise, and from afar is heard faintly the music of a serenade; but all else is hushed-everybody goes to bed, and whoever is not kept awake by care and sorrow, goes to sleep, while stars twinkle, and God wakes and watches over all.

From the English Review.

FEMALE IMMORALITY-ITS CAUSES AND REMEDIES.

Report of the Association for the Aid and Benefit of Dress-makers and Milliners. London. 1848.

WE cannot content ourselves with show-selves on the infusion of fresh life and acing only the brighter and purer side of the female portion of the community, while we are oppressed with the dreadful consciousness, that there is another portion in the midst of us which is given up to the advancement of the mystery of iniquity, which is undoing the work of God's Spirit, and is itself undone, which is hurrying in sin and woe to the fiery indignation of God. It makes the heart ache to think how many tread, and we may add, with unwilling feet, the way of certain death; how many, from the humbler classes, once daughters of the Church, are among the living instruments of the Evil One, and are entirely in his power; how many who have been baptized, are now serving devils and doing the work of hellruined themselves, and now spreading ruin. We might wish to cast such a subject in the shade; we might like to pass by on the other side, and turn away our thoughts from a question so full of pain, so beset by difficulties, so shunned, so feared by the overrefined and over-sensitive spirit of the age. But while we hear on all sides of the improved condition and altered temper of the Church; while we are congratulating our

tivity into a once-dormant body; while, with much complacency, we are fastening our eyes on the tokens of good that shine around us, we cannot but feel ourselves urged to point to one vast and hideous mass of living iniquity, which may well check our overhasty congratulations and humble us to the very dust. There are, doubtless, signs of renewed and awakened life; there are gleams of hope in the Church's sky; there are the stirrings of heart inspiring us with great thoughts; and we are far from wishing to depress or damp warm and ardent minds that turn from heavy times to the brightening horizon of the Church. But still let us face our truc condition, and not throw a veil over the darker parts of our present state. The blots will not disappear, because we refuse to look; neither are we riding on a safe tide when we shut our eyes to the rocks. And hence, if there are in the midst of us guilty multitudes of fallen women, who are contending daily against the Church, who are undermining those whom the Church is training up, who are sapping out the spiritual life of thousands of the opposite sex, and are themselves a sort of living sui

cides but surely it is wise bravely to look | taught or fully preached, besides these acts this mighty evil in the face.