she so long mourned--now calmly resting side by side in a sleep so
tranquil.

We went through the palace. We saw the present king's writing desk and
table in his study, just as he left them. His writing establishment is
about as plain as yours. Men who really mean to do anything do not use
fancy tools. His bedroom, also, is in a style of severe simplicity.
There were several engravings fastened against the wall; and in the
anteroom a bust and medallion of the Empress Eugenie--a thing which I
should not exactly have expected in a born king's palace; but beauty is
sacred, and kings can not call it parvenu. Then we went into the queen's
bed-room, finished in green, and then through the rooms of Queen Louisa.
Those marks of her presence, which you saw during the old king's
lifetime, are now removed; we saw no traces of her dresses, gloves, or
books. In one room, draped in white muslin over pink, we were informed
the Empress of Russia was born.

In going out to Charlottenburg, we rode through the Thiergarten, the
Tuileries of Berlin. In one of the most quiet and sequestered spots is
the monument erected by the people of Berlin to their old king. The
pedestal is Carrara marble, sculptured with beautiful scenes called
garden pleasures--children in all manner of outdoor sports, and parents
fondly looking on. It is graceful, and peculiarly appropriate to those
grounds where parents and children are constantly congregating. The
whole is surmounted by a statue of the king, in white marble--the finest
representation of him I have ever seen. Thoughtful, yet benign, the old
king seems like a good father keeping a grave and affectionate watch
over the pleasures of his children in their garden frolics. There was
something about these moss-grown gardens that seemed so rural and
pastoral, that I at once preferred them to all I had seen in Europe.