and it was his duty as such to preach twice a week. But he soon lost his popularity. The large church in which he preached was never more than one third full. I often pitied him. He always came equipped in such a masterly way, and yet so few were present to appreciate his labor. And here, it seemed to me, was the very difficulty. His sermons were too severely elaborated. They indicated an unduly painful care. To take in the whole of one of his discourses, was always more of a task than to listen to an average lecture in the university. His sermons were lengthy too. member hearing Wichern comparing Nitzsch's preaching with Steinmyer's. (The former was over seventy years of age, was the most profound of German divines, and was characterized by weightiness in all he said and wrote.) He said that he found it much less fatiguing to listen one hour to the old theologian than to the much younger preacher to the university.

The University.

The University of Berlin may be considered the first, although one of the youngest in Germany. It is not yet a century old. As the original term universitas literarum indicates, it is an institution of learning including all the various branches of science. These are arranged into four departments, corresponding to each of which is a faculty, viz., theology, law, medicine and philosophy. The latter includes natural science and philology. When the institution was founded, the philosopher Fichte, (who by the way had studied divinity and been licensed to preach) was one of the commission appointed by the Government to draw up a scheme. He opposed a department of theology, maintaining that it did not deserve to be called a science, but was only a convenience adapted to the wants of women and children. But a wiser judgment prevailed. Schleiermacher, Marheinecke, Strauss and Hengstenberg soon occupied the chairs of the theological faculty, and made it appear that this department of learning was still deserving of the attention of men.

The King of Prussia has always been successful in gathering into his capital the most eminent scholars in all the departments of science, and soon had an institution which was a source of pride to the German nation. In 1860 the number of instructors was over a hundred, and that of the students between two and three thousand. It is needless to say that there is scarcely a topic within the range of scholarship which is not treated in the course of instruction laid down by this institution. Students are sent here from all parts of the world. A veritable Grecian sat beside me in listening to Trendelnburg discoursing on the history of the philosophy of his native land. Besides Englishmen, Scotchmen, Frenchmen and Italians, the names of about fifty Americans were enrolled in

the different departments. Prominent among these was Dr. Hamilton, formerly pastor of a Presbyterian congregation in Jacksonville, Ill. He was devoting two years of study in Berlin almost exclusively to the philosophy of Hegel. The fruit of his labor recently appeared in a work, published by a Boston house, entitled "Autology," in which a variety of metaphysical subjects are treated in a spirited and learned way.

Ranke, the author of the "Lives of the Popes," was lecturing on English History, and Lepsius, the great Egyptian traveler, on the antiquities of that land. I happened to be in the museum on one occasion, when the latter was illustrating to one of his classes a subject, which he was treating, by the hieroglyphics and other monuments which had come down from the time of the Pharaohs. I tried to get near so as to hear what he was saying, but the servants of the museum would not permit me to stop near enough. This was in accordance with his own directions, as he was frequently annoyed by crowds who would interfere with him in discharging his duty to his class. The names of Bekker and Boeckh are familiar to all school-boys who study the notes to their editions of the Classics. The former announced a course of Lectures on Thucidides; the latter on Demosthenes de Corona.

Boeckh was the rector of the University. His autograph is attached to my certificate of Matriculation. I remember quite distinctly the polite bow and respectful shake of the hand with which he received the Rev. Thomas Kemp, deceased, of the Lutheran Church, and myself into the number of the cives Universitatis literaria Friderica Gulielma. He was far advanced in years,perhaps the oldest member of the entire faculty. He was quaint in appearance. He was short, spare, round shouldered, and very plain in his dress. I happened to meet him on a Sunday afternoon in a remote corner of the city, when I was accompanying Gov. Wright home after attending a Bible class in the Methodist chapel which His Excellency conducted. Our conversation had turned upon the University-its government, officers, &c. We were approaching his residence by a back way, and were just turning into a narrow lane formed by the wall of the city and the sides of the houses, when we met an old man with a stump of a cigar in his mouth, wearing his every-day clothes, and they of the most common character, and having on a low, narrow-rimmed, slouched hat. The latter was courteously raised as I saluted him. "Why, who is that?" said the Governor, as if wondering how that beggarlylooking person had gotten into my circle of acquaintances. I replied that it was no less a personage than Boeckh, perhaps the first of living philiologists, and rector of the University.

In the theological faculty there were fifteen teachers, each of

whom lectured on two or three different subjects. Here were forty or fifty dishes to select from, and it may be readily imagined that it was no very easy matter to make a choice. I was very cautious in making out my list of lectures, and in looking back now I do not see how I could well have improved my selection. I heard from Twesten four lectures per week on the epistle to the Hebrews, Nitzsch daily on Biblical Theology, and Trendelnburg daily on the History of Philosophy. Besides these I heard several courses of lectures occurring twice a week. My Hebrew teacher was Professor E. Preuss, who was one of Hengstenberg's closest followers, and who, after taking a professorship in a Lutheran seminary in Missouri, went over to Rome.

The students have access to the Royal Library and also the one belonging to the University. The former is one of the largest in the world. Among the large number of interesting literary relics to be found here is the Hebrew copy of the Old Testament from which Luther made his translation. The latter is intended more especially for the use of the professors, and was selected with a view to their wants. The observatory, the botanical and zoological gardens, the museums of anatomy, zootomy, zoology, &c., are on a scale corresponding to that upon which this magnificent institution of learning has been established, and of which they are the surroundings.

It was my purpose originally to conclude this article by setting. forth the opportunities afforded in Berlin, for culture in the æsthetic sphere in an account of the galleries of painting and sculpture in the Royal Museum. But this with some kindred topic will afford the material for the next number.

SANDALPHON.

Have you read in the Talmud of old,
In the Legends the Rabbins have told
Of the limitless realms of the air?-
Have you read it,-the marvelous story
Of Sandalphon, the Angel of Glory,
Sandalphon, the Angel of Prayer?

How, erect, at the outermost gates
Of the City Celestial he waits,

With his feet on the ladder of light,
That, crowded with angels unnumbered,
By Jacob was seen, as he slumbered
Alone in the desert at night?

The Angels of Wind and of Fire
Chaunt only one hymn and expire

With the song's irresistible stress;
Expire in their rapture and wonder,
As harp-strings are broken asunder
By music they throb to express.

But serene in the rapturous throng,
Unmoved by the rush of the song,

With eyes unimpassioned and slow,
Among the dead angels, the deathless
Sandalphon stands listening breathless
To sounds that ascend from below ;-

From the spirits on earth that adore,
From the souls that entreat and implore
In the fervor and passion of prayer;
From the hearts that are broken with losses,
And weary with dragging the crosses
Too heavy for mortals to bear.

And he gathers the prayers as he stands,
And they change into flowers in his hands,
Into garlands of purple and red;

And beneath the great arch of the portal,
Through the streets of the City Immortal
Is wafted the fragrance they shed.

It is but a legend I know

A fable, a phantom, a show,

Of the ancient Rabbinical lore;
Yet the old medieval tradition,
The beautiful, strange superstition,

But haunts me and holds me the more.

When I look from my window at night,
And the welkin above is all white,

All throbbing and panting with stars,
Among them majestic is standing
Sandalphon the angel, expanding
His pinions in nebulous bars.

And the legend, I feel, is a part
Of the hunger and thirst of the heart,
The frenzy and fire of the brain,
That grasps at the fruitage forbidden,
The golden pomegranates of Eden,
To quiet its fever and pain.

Longfellow.

MY FIRST DAYS IN BERLIN.

N. C. S.

THE first thing that attracted my attention on reaching the socalled capitol of Modern Europe, was a long array of drosches, headed by a policeman, who was busily engaged in distributing numbers corresponding to those on the drivers' hats. These drosches are one-horse carriages with two seats, so that they can carry four passengers at a time; but they never take more than one, unless several wish to go to the same place. Strangers need not bargain before-hand for fear of being over-charged; the rates are fixed by the police, and there is perhaps not another city in the world in which persons can ride so far in special conveyances for so little money. The drivers, indeed, have a hard time of it. They are expected to be ready, at all hours of the day and night, to take passengers to any part of the city; hence it is not surprising that they should sometimes sleep during the day, but how they manage to do so with a cigar in the mouth or while driving through the streets, is after all a question. The horses generally look the worse for wear. Many die in the harness; others, it is said, are fattened in their old age and sold for food,-a report which I am ready to believe by reason of personal experience in the restaurants, and also because the municipal reports state how much horse flesh is consumed every year by the inhabitants of Berlin.

After I had somewhat recovered from the fatigue of a sixteen days journey, I started to call on Dr. Dorner. The drosche stopped in front of a magnificent building. These Professors must live in style, said I to myself; but to my surprise I found each floor occupied by two families. At the close of the late war with France people flocked into the city from all quarters; houses could not be put up fast enough to accommodate them, rents became enormously high; hundreds of students were obliged to go elsewhere; many of the poor had to sleep in stables, and children were found dead on the streets. This state of things is gradually remedying itself. At present not less than two thousand dwelling-houses are empty because no one can be found who is willing to pay the rent asked by the owners.

On entering Dr. Dorner's study I at once recognized a face which I had seen on photographs in America. His countenance was lit