Are to converge about Dresden and the Saxon Switzerland;--about 65,000 strong, equipped as no Army before or since has been;--and take what luck there may be.
Bruhl and Polish Majesty's Army, still only about 18,000, have their apprehensions of such visit: but what can they do?
The Saxon Army draws out into Camp, at sight of this mysterious marching; strong Camp "in the angle of Elbe and Mulde Rivers;"-- then draws in again; being too weak for use.

And is thinking, Menzel informs us, to take post in the stony labyrinthic Pirna Country: such the advice an Excellency Broglio has given;--French Excellency, now in Dresden; Marechal de Broglio's Son, and of little less explosive nature than his Father was.

Bruhl and Polish Majesty, guessing that the hour is come, are infinitely interested.

Interested, not flurried.

"Austrian-Russian Anti-Prussian Covenant!" say Bruhl and Majesty, rather comfortably to themselves: "We never signed it.