scattered to the winds, and after the rubbish heaps have been cleared away, a pretentious palatial building of two or three stories will rise on the site, and cause the old house to be forgotten. Reason says it must be so. The little house in which he lived may disappear, if only the great structure which he erected remains filled with his spirit. But for those to whom the house has become as closely identified with its occupants as the shell with its inlying mother-of-pearl, sentiment also has its claims, and if those claims are to be discharged, care must be taken that when destruction overtakes it, our hero’s dwelling place shall at least continue to live in the printed annals of our race. No. 76 Wilhelmstrasse, which, during the decade and a half spent by Bismarck under its roof has been the most distinguished and finally the most influential Foreign Office in the world, was, both externally and internally, one of the most insignificant looking and uncomfortable of buildings. The Prefecture of a French provincial town, such, for instance, as that of Versailles or Nancy, is, as a general rule, both more roomy and imposing than the narrow and old-fashioned tenement in which the Chancellor of the German Empire and the officials of the Political Department of the Foreign Office were housed for almost sixteen years. Chosen as the residence of the Minister at a time when Prussia was only occasionally reckoned among the effectually great Powers of Europe, it may not merely have sufficed for its purpose so long as that period lasted, but have been, to some extent, an adequate symbol of her slight importance in the eyes of the outer world. After Prussia had taken a higher rank and compelled the world’s attention, after her diplomacy had developed into fuller activity, it was, if not materially indispensable, at least fitting and expedient, that something better should be provided. The fact that this was only done at a late period is due mainly to the simple tastes of Prince Bismarck, who, as we have already seen, contented himself throughout his campaigns with scanty shelter, quite incommensurate with his rank.