between the North and South, pivoting on Slavery,--just as in Europe there has been an attempt to preserve balance of power among nations pivoting on War. Too tardily is it seen that this famous balance, which has played such a part at home and abroad, is but an artificial contrivance instituted by power, which must give place to a simple accord derived from the natural condition of things. Why should not the harmony which has begun at home be extended abroad? Practicable and beneficent here, it must be the same there. Then would nations exist without perpetual and reciprocal watchfulness. But the first step is to discard the wasteful, oppressive, and pernicious provocative to war, which is yet maintained at such terrible cost. To-day this glorious advance is presented to France and Germany. KING WILLIAM AND COUNT BISMARCK. Two personages at this moment hold in their hands the great question teeming with a new civilization. Honest and determined, both are patriotic rather than cosmopolitan or Christian, believing in Prussia rather than Humanity. And the patriotism so strong in each keeps still the early tinge of iron. I refer to King William and his Prime-Minister, Count Bismarck. More than any other European sovereign, William of Prussia possesses the infatuation of "divine right." He believes that he was appointed by God to be King--differing here from Louis Napoleon, who in a spirit of compromise entitled himself Emperor "by the grace of God and the national will." This infatuation was illustrated at his coronation in ancient Konigsberg,--first home of Prussian royalty, and better famous as birthplace and lifelong home of Immanuel Kant,--when the King enacted a scene of melodrama which might be transferred from the church to the theatre. No other person was allowed to place the crown on his royal head. Lifting it from the altar, where it rested, he placed it on his head himself, in sign that he held it from Heaven and not from man, and next placed another on the head of the Queen, in sign that her dignity was derived from him. Then, turning round, he grasped the sword of state, in testimony of readiness to defend the nation. Since the Battle of Sadowa, when the Austrian Empire was so suddenly shattered, he has believed himself providential sword-bearer of Germany, destined, perhaps, to revive the old glories of Barbarossa. His habits are soldierly, and, notwithstanding his seventy-three winters, he continues to find pleasure in wearing the spiked helmet of the Prussian camp. Republicans smile when he speaks of "my army," "my allies," and "my people"; but this egotism is the natural expression of the monarchical character, especially where the monarch believes that he holds by "divine right." His public conduct is in harmony with these conditions. He is a Protestant, and rules the land of Luther, but he is no friend to modern Reform. The venerable system of war and prerogative is part of his inheritance handed down from