fficer tried to elbow a pasage for his party through the rowd, but was glad to proect his own body from the 15 rush. The artist in the midst if the throng found it imposible to exercise his office, and could make a passage neither backwards nor forwards for a while, on account of the long kirts of his overcoat, which ever became entangled in the egs of those crowding past him, and he was exhausting dhimself in pulling and tugthe ging, when at last the officer succeeded in conducting him Up to a more open spot, and giving him a seat long enough to sketch that por

tion of the scene which we present in illustration.

10 25 It was for some reason a gala night in the "thieves' den," and there was on hand a large force of one branch of the police to interfere in case of an outbreak, which on such occasions rarely ends without the use of knives. The real controller of the situation was the keeper of the place, who seemed to possess a rare skill of appearing whenever a tumult was threatened, and of appeasing the anger of the crowd by making each one believe that he was his best friend, and asking as a special favor that there might be no violence. As the host was a general favorite, he mostly succeeded in restoring order, or, if not, he was at least sustained in turning the violent ones into the street. This he had just done with some noisy subjects who had been pounding their tables as if these were anvils, and making glasses clatter and bottles fall to the floor. He made himself a way through the crowd where no one else could move, and when the party desired to leave he offered his services to make their exit safe. This he did by planting his brawny arms akimbo, and with elbows and shoulders waging first to the right and then to the left such well-directed lurches that the wildest fellows were glad to make room for him, or if by chance some bulldog growled at him, a sharply uttered sentence soon silenced him.

Having escaped from this pandemonium, the party declared themselves satisfied at the sights of the town, but were again induced by the officer to jump into a night-drosky and follow him to police headquarters, to see what the force might have brought there during the night. When the driver heard the orders

"IN CARE OF THE POLICE."

of his company to proceed to the head policestation he knew his guests, and soon urged his horse out of the accustomed Berlin trot. When half-way to quarters a shrill cry was heard proceeding from the precincts of a notorious drinking-cellar, out of which the keeper rushed, calling with shrill voice for the police. The drosky stopped, the officer sprang out, and in a few minutes returned with a prisoner, who asserted again and again his innocence, and declared that he had never before been under arrest. The officer, however, held on to him, and on arrival at headquarters delivered him over to the criminal justice, who is in waiting all night to enroll his prisoners and give them a safe retreat until morning. When placed at the bar for a nightly hearing, the justice soon recognized. him as an old offender, and with a short record consigned him to other hands.

The artist had hardly time to sketch the outlines of this scene before the party were hurried into the dismal apartments of the main station, where quarters are assigned to those who are brought in for the night. It is a sorry-looking cage, which is entered by a heavy door of oaken poles through which one can look into the main passages of this veritable den. Here in one corner lay curled up a poor drunken wretch who had not the power to go any further than the nearest restingplace, and who was allowed to sleep off his rum right there without further molestation. In technical parlance, he was said to be in the

care of the police," and to his discomfort, no doubt, he was to find in the morning that their care of him was to extend through quite a series of days.

The inner rooms were filled with candidates

for protection for the night, some voluntary, in default of other quarters for a stormy night, when an empty box or hogshead, or a covered area, was hardly sufficient for comfort; but the most under arrest for petty misdemeanors or disturbance of the peace in the numerous haunts of vice and intemperance. On the On the benches and under them, as well as in numerous bunks arranged along the wall, scores of poor wretches were snoring away in their rags and filth. A few were sitting up in a state of hopeless and sleepless despair, subjected to this fearful degradation perhaps for the first time. The unusual appearance of a party of strangers under the guidance of a policeman caused quite an excitement in the miserable retreat, and roused up many of the sleepers, and among these one of a rare species in Berlin. As he stuck his crispy head and black face out of the folds of a hammock, the first inquiry was to know whether the authorities there permitted chimney-sweeps to go unwashed to their sorry beds.

"He is no chimney-sweep," said the officer, "but a genuine negro." And sure enough, at these words a very swarthy son of Africa straightened himself up and looked at his visitors with a decided grin, and a generous display of teeth. "If I were a chimney-sweep I would long ago have made my way out of this through the chimney," said he, in a tone of disgust, and in the best of German. "What are you in here for?" was the question immediately addressed to him. "Because I have lost my identification papers; but I should think my face were identification enough, without a passport."

COMPOSITOR ON THE LONDON TIMES.

"What are you?"

'Nothing just now, but I have been a little of everything in my time: a teacher of languages, the servant of a prince, and a composi tor in a printing-office." "In what office?" "In The London Times."-"He lies like a book, book," said the policeman. "Lies like a book!" repeated the negro, contemptuously. "If everything here is not down in black and white, you say a fellow lies like a book!You can telegraph to London and inquire whether a negro did not work in the compo sing-room of the Times."-" And then," interrupted the officer, comes the question whether you are that negro."

"And there it is again," replied the black, angrily, "as if niggers ran about here like chimney-sweeps. You may thank your stars that this is not the case, for you would then soon be high and dry with your detestable passport system, which is only invented to annoy honest men. To you I'm nothing but a darkey, and that settles the question."

Herein however we beg leave to differ from our colored subject, who does the Germans rank injustice in accusing them of prejudice against him on account of color. Negroes are a novelty in Germany, except perhaps in the few seaports, and as such they are treated with great respect. We once saw a gentleman of that color lolling in his luxurious carriage in the streets of Berlin, with a white driver on the box, and a white liveried servant posted conspicuously up behind. The Germans who saw the sight thought it all right, taking the sable gentleman to be some African prince, but the few Americans who enjoyed the spectacle stood still on the promenade

for a hearty laugh at the thought of the excitement which such a scene would cause on Broadway or in Central Park. Indeed, the few negroes in Berlin do not often figure in the haunts of low life, and this unfortu nate fellow was an exception to his race. He had evidently been a little careless in his morals, and was so reduced in pocket that he was obliged to ignore his pride of caste, and hint to his visitors that a little attention in this regard would be quite acceptable. His modest allusion to the low state of his finances brought him quite a little god-send in the

ם

ime of cash, and his new-found friends left im amidst a profusion of thanks.

Another portion of this establishment is levoted to the purposes of a woman's lockIP, and here the air is denser and even more oul, while the misery is more patent and reTolting, as the sex always seems to sink when tfalls to lower depths of disgust and degralation than is generally reached by man. e One may begin the study of low life in he capitals of Germany, or indeed in any part of Europe, in a philosophical mood and with the intent of making it thorough and profitable as a life experience, but the task s by no means a pleasant one, and unless the investigator happens to find a special pleasure in that kind of research it soon cloys, if it does not disgust. It is well, however, to make a more familiar acquaintance with some phases of it, to gain a juster appreciation of its true character.

Most of the places of popular resort in these cities succeed in assuming an air of in-nocent amusement which is not unfrequently quite deceptive. The uninitiated visitor may feel that he is at times in very pleasant and desirable surroundings, when he has in very truth fallen among thieves and harlots of whose presence he would have no suspicion from their surroundings and their amusements. The most depraved succeed in presenting an appearance of external propriety, or, if not, they are kept within bounds by a watchful police, so that a rosy surface too often conceals a rotten core. The police form a part of every gathering, and their silent influence is always felt, though their presence may not be patent. For weeks the gardens and concert halls and public dancing and drinking halls may go on so orderly that no one suspects the presence of

other than guests in quest of the peculiar enjoyment offered by the locality. But let a disturbance of any kind demand police interference, and the officers seem to spring out of the ground. This the people well know, and are thus schooled to a species of restraint which becomes a second nature, and gives a subdued character to public gatherings of all kinds that prevents them from being the scene of violence and disorder.

And this is, we opine, the case with the much discussed question of intemperance

But

abroad. The surface tourists tell us that drunken men are never met with on public occasions in the popular life of Europe, and to a certain extent it is true. this is partly the case from the fact that the police would instantly remove a drunken man from public view, and partly from the fact that alcoholic drinks are less indulged in than with us. Men become stupid with beer, and seldom devilish on wine, though they drink it to excess. And as nearly everybody drinks moderately without apparent detriment to health, manners or good morals, the conclusion drawn from the surface is that countries in which beer and wine are usual beverages are therefore temperate countries in the popular acceptation of the

term.

But a night among the low haunts of any city will show how deceptive is this opinion, and prove to the sorrow of the philanthropist that it is a delusion. Indeed we need little more to convince us of this fact than the wail which is arising in various parts of Europe as to the fearful ravages now being made on society by the excessive use of beer, wine and alcoholic liquors.

The liberty of Protestantism is, therefore, simply the privilege of choosing a sect. It is said, the communicant has the liberty to leave the church. But that is not liberty, for he is compelled to do so if he differs from its creed. It is said, also, that he joins the church on confession of faith, thereby agreeing to adhere to its creed while he remains in it. Is not that a fair compact? And what infringement of his liberty is there in requiring him to take himself off when he can no longer adhere to it? If he was capable when he espoused the creed of examining and understanding it; if he knew the nature of the compact he was entering; and if, in dismissing him, the church imposes no disabilities, then there is no wrong done him. But there is rarely a case where all these conditions are fulfilled. If the point in which he differs from the chosen sect be one merely of difference between orthodox sects, he may be dismissed from one to the other without serious disadvantage to himself. But if his doubts concern a point in which all the orthodox sects agree, then he must leave orthodoxy entirely, and incur the odium of heterodoxy, which involves always the suspicion of moral delinquency. Doubt is considered a sign of depravity; and orthodoxy treats the doubter as though he were immoral, not only by the withdrawal of confidence, but by visiting upon him the same penalties as are executed against gross immorality, viz., arraignment and expulsion if he does not recant.

If this mode of treatment is unjust toward those who have entered the church intelligently and responsibly, it becomes a gross abuse of liberty in the case of a large majority of doubters who join the church in early youth, before they are capable either of investigating or understanding its creed. Probably ninety-nine out of every hundred doubters are of this last class. While too young to doubt, they accept, and profess honestly to believe the creed of their fathers, because they have been taught to do so from their infancy. They grow up in the church, and learn to love it as the mother that has watched over and reared them. They are loyal to it, and make sacrifices for its maintenance. More than that, they are loyal to Christ, devout and faithful Christians. But with growth and culture they come to the ability to think and investigate for themselves, and so to doubt the creed they accepted unquestioningly and blindly at first. For them there are two courses possible. One is, to give an outward adherence to doctrines they disbelieve; and the other, to separate from

the church they love, and around which are entwined the fondest memories of their childhood and youth. It is not strange that the majority prefer the former course, and consent to suppress their convictions, and maintain an outward allegiance to a creed which in their heart they repudiate, rather

than leave the church.

There can be no doubt that there are thousands in the Protestant churches to-day, who, if required publicly to renew the same confession of faith which they made when they first entered the church, could not do it conscientiously. But the church accepts their external adherence, though cognizant of their heart-defection, and thus becomes a particeps criminis to a system of deceit which effectually undermines all integrity of character, sacrificing that for which alone the church was established, for the sake of an appearance of doctrinal soundness; preserving the shell, but destroying the kernel; debauching the conscience for the sake of preserving the creed intact.

But if the doubter will not suppress his convictions, and maintain an outward adherence to the creed he blindly accepted when he was too young to investigate it, he meets the same fate as if he had been a knowing, responsible party to the compact; that is, he is excluded from the communion he has loved and supported from his childhood. Surely, that is not liberty which hedges the thinker about with disabilities, which, though not so malignantly cruel, are yet just as effectual in repressing liberty of thought and conscience as were the fagot, the thumb-screw, and other tortures of the Inquisition.

Orthodox Protestantism is avowedly opposed to all theologic thought that does not harmonize with the creeds. It says to its adherents, "You may think, but within the limits prescribed by the creed. You may investigate, but you must always come to the same conclusion."

This is not liberty, but bondage.

And this bondage is felt more or less by every private member who thinks; but to the ministry it becomes a grievous burden and hindrance to efficiency. For while they are held to a stricter account for their opinions, they also suffer greater loss in case their orthodoxy is impugned. A slight suspicion of heterodoxy is usually sufficient to hedge up the way of a minister in any of the orthodox churches.

Any serious divergence from the prescribed and beaten track of theologic thought, is sure to provoke grave discussion and threats of