'Rise, all fencible men,' exclaims the Government,--'at least we will ballot, and make you rise:'-- Militia people enter Prag to the extent of 10,000; like to avail little, one would fear.

General Harsch, with reinforcement of real soldiers, is despatched from Vienna; Harsch, one of our ablest soldiers since Khevenhuller died, gets in still in time; and thus increases the Garrison of regulars to 4,000, with a vigorous Captain to guide it.
Old Count Ogilvy, the same whom Saxe surprised two years ago in the moonlight, snatching ladders from the gallows,--Ogilvy is again Commandant; but this time nominal mainly, and with better outlooks, Harsch being under him.

In relays, 3,000 of the Militia men dig and shovel night and day; repairing, perfecting the ramparts of the place.
Then, as to provisions, endless corn is introduced,--farmers forced, the unwilling at the bayonet's point, to deliver in their corn; much of it in sheaf, so that we have to thrash it in the market-place, in the streets that are wide: and thus in Prag is heard the sound of flails, among the Militia-drums and so many other noises.

With the great church-organs growling; and the bass and treble MISERERE of the poor superstitious People rising, to St.Vitus and others.

In fact, it is a general Dance of St.Vitus,--except that of the flails, and Militia-men working at the ramparts,--mostly not leading any-whither." ["LETTER from a Citizen of Prag," date, 21st Sept.