Friedrich steps across on Lacy, thirsting to have a stroke at Lacy; who vanishes fast enough, leaving the ground clear.

Could but our baggage have come as fast as we! But our baggage, Quintus guarding and urging, has to groan on for five hours yet; and without it, there is no stirring.

Five mortal hours;--by which time, Daun, Lacy, Loudon are all up again; between us and Jauer, between us and everything helpful;--and Friedrich has to encamp in Seichau,--"a very poor Village in the Mountains," writes Mitchell, who was painfully present there, "surrounded on all sides by Heights; on several of which, in the evening, the Austrians took camp, separated from us by a deep ravine only." [Mitchell, ii.

194.] Outlooks are growing very questionable to Mitchell and everybody.

"Only four days' provisions" (in reality six), whisper the Prussian Generals gloomily to Mitchell and to one another: "Shall we have to make for Glogau, then, and leave Breslau to its fate?
Or perhaps it will be a second Maxen to his Majesty and us, who was so indignant with poor Finck ?" My friends, no; a Maxen like Finck's it will never be: a very different Maxen, if any! But we hope better things.
Friedrich's situation, grasped in the Three-lipped Pincers in this manner, is conceivable to readers.