No want of intrepidity and rugged soldier-virtue in the Prussian troops or their Crown-Prince; least of all on that terrible day, 11th September, 1709;--of which he keeps the anniversary ever since, and will do all his life, the doomsday of Malplaquet always a memorable day to him.

[Forster, i.

138.] He is more and more intimate with Leopold, and loves good soldiering beyond all things.

Here at Berlin he has already got a regiment of his own, tallish fine men; and strives to make it in all points a very pattern of a regiment.
For the rest, much here is out of joint, and far from satisfactory to him.

Seven years ago [1st February, 1705.] he lost his own brave Mother and her love; of which we must speak farther by and by.