everywhere, and no difference in color, no special cut of the garment,
notifies you that you are away from home. The men and women whom I met
in the street escape description; the flâneurs of the Unter den Linden
are exactly like the flâneurs of the Boulevard des Italiens. This
avenue, bordered by splendid houses, is planted, as its name indicates,
with lindens; trees "whose leaf is shaped like a heart," as Heinrich
Heine remarks--a peculiarity which makes Unter den Linden dear to
lovers, and eminently suited for sentimental interviews. At its entrance
stands the equestrian statue of Frederick the Great. Like the
Champs-Elysées in Paris, this avenue terminates at a triumphal arch,
surmounted by a chariot with four bronze horses. Passing under the arch,
we come out into a park in some degrees resembling the Bois de Boulogne.

Along the edge of this park, which is shadowed by great trees having all
the intensity of northern verdure, and freshened by a little winding
stream, open flower-crowded gardens, in whose depths you can discern
summer retreats, which are neither châlets, nor cottages, nor villas,
but Pompeiian houses with their tetrastylic porticos and panels of
antique red. The Greek taste is held in high esteem in Berlin. On the
other hand, they seem to disdain the style of the Renaissance, so much
in vogue in Paris; I saw no edifice of this kind in Berlin.

Night came; and after paying a hasty visit to the zoological garden,
where all the animals were asleep, except a dozen long-tailed paroquets
and cockatoos, who were screaming from their perches, pluming
themselves, and raising their crests, I returned to my hotel to strap
my trunk and betake myself to the Hamburg railway station, as the train
would leave at ten, a circumstance which prevented me from going, as I
had intended, to the opera to hear Cherubini's "Deux Journées," and to
see Louise Taglioni dance the Sevillana....