'Go to the inspecting officer,' said I; 'if they once get you into Prussia it is all over with you, and they will never give you up.

Go now to the commandant of the depot, promise him a hundred--five hundred guineas to set you free; say that the crimping captain has your papers and portfolio' (this was true); 'above all, show him that you have the means of paying him the promised money, and I will warrant you are set free.' He did as I advised, and when we were put on the march Mr.Fakenham found means to be allowed to go into hospital, and while in hospital the matter was arranged as I had recommended.
He had nearly, however, missed his freedom by his own stinginess in bargaining for it, and never showed the least gratitude towards me his benefactor.
I am not going to give any romantic narrative of the Seven Years' War.
At the close of it, the Prussian army, so renowned for its disciplined valour, was officered and under-officered by native Prussians, it is true; but was composed for the most part of men hired or stolen, like myself, from almost every nation in Europe.

The deserting to and fro was prodigious.

In my regiment (Bulow's) alone before the war, there had been no less than 600 Frenchmen, and as they marched out of Berlin for the campaign, one of the fellows had an old fiddle on which he was flaying a French tune, and his comrades danced almost, rather than walked, after him, singing, 'Nous allons en France.' Two years after, when they returned to Berlin, there were only six of these men left; the rest had fled or were killed in action.

The life the private soldier led was a frightful one to any but men of iron courage and endurance.