"NARREN-POSSEN (Pack of nonsense)!" grumbles Majesty .-- Pleasant Dusseldorf is much more interesting to his Majesty; the pleasant Capital of Berg, which ought to be ours, if right could be done; if old Pfalz would give up his crotchets; and the bowls, in the big game playing at Seville and elsewhere, would roll fair! Dusseldorf and that fine Palace of the Pfalzers, which ought to be mine;--and here next is Kaiserswerth, a place of sieges, cannonadings, known to those I knew.

'M-NA, from father to son and grandson it goes on, and there is no end to trouble and war!-- His Majesty's next lodging is at Mors; old gaunt Castle in the Town of Mors, which (thanks to Leopold of Anhalt-Dessau and the Iron Ramrods) is now his Majesty's in spite of the Dutch.

There the lodging is, at an hour's drive westward from the Rhine-shore:--where his Majesty quitted the River, I do not know; nor whether the Crown-Prince went to Mors with him, or waited in his Yacht; but guess the latter.

His Majesty intends for Geldern on the morrow, on matters of business thither, for the Town is his: but what would the Prince, in the present state of things, do there ?--At Mors, Seckendorf found means to address his Majesty privately, and snuffled into him suggestions of mercy to the repentant Prince, and to the poor Officers whom he was so anxious about.

"Well, if he WILL confess everything, and leave off his quirks and concealments: but I know he won't!" answered Majesty.
In that dilapidated Castle of Mors,--look at it, reader, though in the dark; we may see it again, or the shadow of it, perhaps by moonlight.
A very gaunt old Castle; next to nothing living in it, since the old Dessauer (by stratagem, and without shot fired) flung out the Dutch, in the Treaty-of-Utrecht time; Mors Castle and Territory being indisputably ours, though always withheld from us on pretexts.