So that, on the eighth day hence, AUGUST 6th, at Mullrose, near Frankfurt, 80 miles from Sagan, there is a second rendezvous,--rendezvous of Wedell and Friedrich, who do not now "intersect," but meet after the hunt is done;--and in the interim, there has been a wonderful performance, though an unsuccessful.
Friedrich never could rightly get hold of his Austrians.

Once only, at Sommerfeld, a long march northwest of Sagan, he came upon some outskirts of them.

And in general, in those latter eight days, especially in the first six of them, there is, in that Kotbus-Sagan Country, such an intersecting, checking, pushing and multifarious simmering of marches, on the part of half a dozen Strategic Entities, Friedrich the centre of them, as--as, I think, nobody but an express soldier-student, well furnished with admiration for this particular Soldier, would consent to have explained to him.

One of the maziest, most unintelligible whirls of marching; inextricable Sword Dance, or Dance of the Furies,--five of them (that is the correct number: Haddick, Loudon, Friedrich, Wurtemberg, Wedell);--and it is flung down for us, all in a huddle, in these inhuman Books (which have several errors of the press, too): let no man rashly insist with himself on understanding it, unless he have need! Humanly pulled straight, not inhumanly flung down at random, here the essentials of it are,--in very brief state:-- "SAGAN, MONDAY, 30th JULY.

Friedrich is at Sagan, since midnight last, busier and busier;" beating cover, as we termed it, and getting his hounds (his new Henri-Army) in leash; "endeavoring, especially, to get tidings of those Austrian people; who are very enigmatic,--Loudon a dexterous man,--and have hung up such a curtain of Pandours between Friedrich and them as is nearly impenetrable.