d once more.

But, O God! what means this? he is pale--his eyes are filled with tears.
He opens his mouth to speak, but strength has left him. He holds on to
the bars of the balcony, otherwise he would sink. At last he collects
himself. It is not necessary to ask for silence; the silence of the
grave is upon those torpid men. He speaks! his voice is faint and weak,
and trembles--oh, so fearfully! only a few in the first rank can hear
his words.

"The battle is lost! The Russians have conquered! The Austrians came to
their assistance! The presence of the Austrians was not known, they had
their tents in holes in the ground! As our militia rushed upon the last
intrenchment at Judenberg and were only a hundred steps distant, Loudon
suddenly advanced with his fresh troops, against the worn-out and
exhausted victors. He received the Prussians with so murderous a fire,
that their ranks faltered, wavered, and, at last, broke loose in wild
flight, pursued furiously by the raging enemy. The fortunes of the day
had turned; we lost the battle. But all is not lost. The king lives! he
is slightly wounded; three horses were shot under him. He lives, and so
long as he lives, there is hope. In the far distance, in the midst of
the terrible disaster? which have befallen himself and his army, he
thinks of his Berliners. He sends you a father's greeting, and exhorts
every one of you to save his possessions, as far as possible. Those who
do not feel safe in Berlin, and who fear the approaching enemy, the king
counsels to withdraw, if possible, with their money, to Magdeburg, where
the royal family will take refuge this evening."

The minister was silent, and the people who had listened, dumb with
horror, now broke out in wild cries of anguish and despair. Terror was
written in every face; tears gushed from every eye. Cries of unspeakable
agony burst from those lips, which, a few moments before, were eloquent
with hope and gladness.

As if it were impossible to believe in these misfortunes without further
confirmation, some men called loudly for the messenger, and the distant
crowd, as if inspired with new hope, roared louder and louder:

"The courier! the courier! we will ourselves speak with the courier!"

The demand was so threatening, so continuous, it must be complied with.
Herzberg stepped upon the balcony, and informed the crowd that the
courier would at once descend to the public square. A breathless silence
succeeded; every ey