[Retzow, i.
43, &c.] To all which Friedrich, if any whisper of them ever got to Friedrich, would answer one can guess how.
It is evident, Friedrich had not given up his hope (indeed, for above a year more, he never did) that England might, by profuse bribery,--"such the power of bribery in that mad court!"-- assuage, overnet with backstairs packthreads, or in some way compesce the Russian delirium for him.

And England, his sole Ally in the world, still tender of Austria, and unable to believe what the full intentions of Austria are; England demands much wariness in his procedures towards Austria; reiterating always, "Wait, your Majesty! Oh, beware!"-- His own Army, we need not say, is in perfect preparation.

The Army--let us guess, 150,000 regular, or near 200,000 of all arms and kinds [Archenholtz (i, 8) counts vaguely "160,000" at this date.]-- never was so perfect before or since.

Old Captains in it, whom we used to know, are grayer and wiser; young, whom we heard less of, are grown veterans of trust.

Schwerin, much a Cincinnatus since we last saw him, has laid down his plough again, a fervid "little Marlborough" of seventy-two;--and will never see that beautiful Schwerinsburg, and its thriving woods and farm-fields, any more.