o
Hanover, in absolute silence towards his clownish Brother-in-Law. You
would say he looks over the head of him, as if there were no such clown
in existence;--he has never yet so much as notified his arrival. "What
is this? There exists no Prussia, then, for little George?" Friedrich
Wilhelm's inarticulate, interjectionary utterances, in clangorous
metallic tone, we can fancy them, now and then; and the
Tobacco-Parliament is busy! British Minister Dubourgay, steady old
military gentleman, who spells imperfectly, but is intent to keep down
mischief, writes at last to Hanover, submissively suggesting, "Could
not, as was the old wont, some notification of the King's arrival be
sent hither, which would console his Prussian Majesty?" To which my
Lord Townshend answers, "Has not been the custom, I am informed [WRONG
informed, your Lordship]; not necessary in the circumstances." Which is
a high course between neighbors and royal gentlemen and kinsfolk. The
Prussian Court hereupon likewise shuts its lips; no mention of the
Hanoverian Court, not even by her Majesty and to Englishmen, for several
weeks past. [Dubourgay.] Some inarticulate metallic growl, in private,
at dinner or in the TABAKS-COLLEGIUM: the rest is truculent silence.
Nor are our poor Hanover Recruits (according to our List of Pressed
Hanoverians) in the least sent back; nor the Clamei Meadows settled;
"Big Meadow" or "Little one," both of which the Brandenburgers have mown
in the mean time.

Hanover Pressed men not coming home,--I think, not one of them,--the
Hanover Officials decide to seize such Prussian Soldiers as happen to be
seizable, in Hanover Territory. The highway in that border-country runs
now on this side of the march, now on that;--watch well, and you will
get Prussian Soldiers from time to time! Which the Hanover people do;
and seize several, common men and even officers. Here is once more a
high course of proceeding. Here is coal to raise smoke enough, if well
blown upon,--which, with Seckendorf and Grumkow working the bellows,
we may well fancy it was! But listen to what follows, independently of
bellows.

On the 28th June, 1729, hay lying now quite dry upon the Meadow of
Clamei, lo, the Bailiff of Hanoverian Buhlitz, Unpicturesque Traveller
will find the peat-smoky little Village of Buhlitz near by a dusty
little Town called Luchow, midway from Hamburg to Magdeburg; altogether
peaty, mossy country; in the Salzwedel district, where used to be W