EPITRE A MA SOEUR (First of the Lamentation-Psalms) .-- This is the famed "Epistle to Wilhelmina," already spoken of; which the King despatched from Bernstadt "August 24th," just while quitting those parts, on the Erfurt Errand;--though written before, in the tedium of waiting for Keith.

The Piece is long, vehement, altogether sincere; lyrically sings aloud, or declaims in rhyme, what one's indignant thought really is on the surrounding woes and atrocities.

We faithfully abridge, and condense into our briefest Prose;--readers can add water and the jingle of French rhymes AD LIBITUM.

It starts thus:-- "O sweet and dear hope of my remaining days; O Sister, whose friendship, so fertile in resources, shares all my sorrows, and with a helpful arm assists me in the gulf! It is in vain that the Destinies have overwhelmed me with disasters: if the crowd of Kings have sworn my ruin; if the Earth have opened to swallow me,--you still love me, noble and affectionate Sister: loved by you, what is there of misfortune?
[Branches off into some survey of it, nevertheless.] "Huge continents of thunder-cloud, plots thickening against me [in those Menzel Documents], I watched with terror; the sky getting blacker, no covert for me visible: on a sudden, from the deeps of Hell, starts forth Discord [with capital letter], and the tempest broke.
Ce fut dans ton Senat, O fouqueuse Angleterre! Ou ce monstre inhumain fit eclater la guerre: It was from thy Senate, stormful England, that she first launched out War.

In remote climates first; in America, far away;--between France and thee.