He lays awake o' nights, unable to sleep, he says, "and it seems as though there were a mountain on my chest." ¶ He does not think much of Gladstone's "Home Rule" ideas; this "let the people" rule is bad business, is the old man's comment. ¶ He is invited out a great deal, but always makes the same excuse, "I do not sleep well anywhere except in my own four-post bed. My traveling days are over, thank you." ¶ One day in the park, the ladies kissed his hand, but he replied by kissing their cheeks, and he made a little speech as though he were in parliament. ¶ He studies the thick walls of Schoenhausen mansion and examines the old French cannon of '71 scattered around the yard, as souvenirs. ¶ He superintends the planting of trees; and rules over his estate with all the old family dignity and unshaken firmness of soul. He asks his secretary to count the telegrams that came this past year and in round numbers there are 10,000. The old man takes a notion to send each inquirer after his health a Bismarck autograph. So each day, from April to August, he spends part of his time writing over and over in great scrawling letters, at the bottom of a printed card of thanks, the huge signature, "Bismarck." * * * * * ¶ Little things are beginning to bother the old man. He comes in today from a short walk and says he hates crows, because they are the enemy of the singing birds. ¶ Neuralgia is tormenting him, day and night, and he is very irritable. School children come with teachers and after the children sing the old man bows and says, "Children, I thank you." ¶ And this Dr. Schweninger, who promised Bismarck ninety years of life, is always hovering about, like a military doctor, giving express orders to eat this, to get up at such an hour, to go to bed at such an hour, and to take a nap at such an hour. The old man obeys like a child. ¶ Strangers wait at the village bridge to see Bismarck and his dogs pass by; week after week delegations of working-men, lawyers, students, come to the house. Schweninger orders him to take longer naps, not worry about politics and not to meet strangers. The old saying, "Once a man and twice a child" is coming to pass; Otto von Bismarck is no longer the stubborn, dogmatic fellow that he was, even a few years ago. But he still scolds, fights and has his way with all--except the doctor. * * * * * ¶ Tomorrow, April 1, 1898, Bismarck will be 83; however, he does not seem to be failing much; but his face is ashen, his grizzled mustache, eyebrows and hair are as white as the driven snow. ¶ Gardeners write to him that they have named their choicest new variety of rose, the Bismarck; and cigarmakers have the Bismarck shape, cutlers the Bismarck dinner knife, a thick, sharp blade that will carve a duck's neck in a twinkling.