"This conversation done," continues the General, "he set to
talking with the Madam Wreech," and her complexion of lily and
rose; "but he did not stay long; drove off about five [dinner at
the stroke of twelve in those countries], inviting me to see him
again at Custrin, which I promised."

And so the Prince is off in the Autumn sunset, driving down the
peaty hollow of the Warta, through unpicturesque country, which
produces Wreechs and incomparable flowers nevertheless. Yes; and
if he look a six miles to the right, there is the smoke of the
evening kettles from Zorndorf, rising into the sky; and across the
River, a twenty miles to the left, is Kunersdorf: poor sleepy
sandy hamlets; where nettles of the Devil are to be plucked
one day!--

"The beautiful Wreech drove off to Tamsel," her fine house; I to
this wretched tavern; where, a couple of hours after that
conversation, I began writing it all down, and have nothing else
to do for the night. Your Excellency's most moral, stiff-necked,
pipe-clayed and extremely obedient,

"VON SCHULENBUBG."

[Forster, iii. 65-71.]

This young man may be orthodox on Predestination, and outwardly
growing all that a Papa could wish; but here are strange
heterodoxies, here is plenty of mutinous capricious fire in the
interior of him, Herr General! In fact, a young man unfortunately
situated; already become solitary in Creation; has not, except