The first introduction of gas into the city was made by an English company about ten years before my birth; but how many oil lamps I still saw burning, and in my school days the manufacturing city of Kottbus, which at that time contained about ten thousand inhabitants, was lighted by them!  In my childhood gas was not used in the houses and theatres of Berlin, and kerosene had not found its way to Germany.  The rooms were lighted by oil lamps and candles, while the servants burned tallow-dips.  The latter were also used in our nursery, and during the years which I spent at school in Keilhau all our studying was done by them.

Matches were not known.  I still remember the tinder box in the kitchen, the steel, the flint, and the threads dipped in sulphur.  The sparks made by striking fell on the tinder and caught it on fire here and there.  Soon after the long, rough lucifer matches appeared, which were dipped into a little bottle filled, I believe, with asbestos wet with sulphuric acid.

We never saw the gardener light his pipe except with flint, steel, and tinder.  The gun he used had a firelock, and when he had put first powder, then a wad, then shot, and lastly another wad into the barrel, he was obliged to shake some powder into the pan, which was lighted by the sparks from the flint striking the steel, if the rain did not make it too damp.

For writing we used exclusively goose-quills, for though steel pens were invented soon after I was born, they were probably very imperfect; and, moreover, had to combat a violent prejudice, for at the first school we attended we were strictly forbidden to use them.  So the penknife played an important part on every writing-desk, and it was impossible to imagine a good penman who did not possess skill in the art of shaping the quills.

What has been accomplished between 1837 and the present date in the way of means of communication I need not recapitulate.  I only know how long a time was required for a letter from my mother’s brothers—­one was a resident of Java and the other lived as “Opperhoofd” in Japan—­to reach Berlin, and how often an opportunity was used, generally through the courtesy of the Netherland embassy, for sending letters or little gifts to Holland.  A letter forwarded by express was the swiftest way of receiving or giving news; but there was the signal telegraph, whose arms we often saw moving up and down, but exclusively in the service of the Government.  When, a few years ago, my mother was ill in Holland, a reply to a telegram marked “urgent” was received in Leipsic in eighteen minutes.  What would our grandparents have said to such a miracle?

We were soon to learn by experience the number of days required to reach my mother’s home from Berlin, for there was then no railroad to Holland.

The remarkable changes wrought during my lifetime in the political affairs of Germany I can merely indicate here.  I was born in despotic Prussia, which was united to Austria and the German states and small countries by a loosely formed league.  As guardians of this wretched unity the various courts sent diplomats to Frankfort, who interrupted their careless mode of life only to sharpen distrust of other courts or suppress some democratic movement.