façade, in order to mask the nature of the material, gives the effect of
enormous architectural decorations seen in open air. The salient parts,
moldings, cornices, entablatures, consoles, are of wood, bronze, or
cast-iron, to which suitable forms have been given; when you do not look
too closely the effect is satisfactory. Truth is the only thing lacking
in all this splendor.

The palatial buildings which border Regent's Park in London present also
these porticoes, and these columns with brick cores and plaster-fluting,
which, by aid of a coating of oil paint, are expected to pass for stone
or marble. Why not build in brick frankly, since its water-coloring and
capacity for ingeniously varied arrangement furnish so many resources?
Even in Berlin I have seen charming houses of this kind which had the
advantage of being truthful. A fictitious material always inspires a
certain uneasiness.

The hotel is very well located, and I propose to sketch the view seen
from its steps. It will give a fair idea of the general character of the
city. The foreground is a quay bordering the Spree. A few boats with
slender masts are sleeping on the brown water. Vessels upon a canal or a
river, in the heart of a city, have always a charming effect. Along the
opposite quay stretches a line of houses; a few of them are ancient, and
bear the stamp thereof; the king's palace makes the corner. A cupola
upon an octagonal tower rises proudly above the other roofs, the square
sides of the tower adding grace to the curve of the dome.

A bridge spans the river, reminding me, with its white marble groups, of
the Ponte San Angelo at Rome. These groups--eight in number, if my
memory does not deceive me--are each composed of two figures; one
allegorical, winged, representing the country, or glory; the other, a