one ready to help at discretion!

Hildburghausen, I will hope, does his utmost; Soubise, Broglio, for
certain do. The French line is in front, next the Prussians: poor
Generals of Dauphiness are panting to retrieve themselves. But with
regiments jammed in this astonishing way, and got collectively into the
lion's throat, what can be done? Steady, rigid as iron clock-work, the
Prussian line strides forward; at forty paces' distance delivers its
first shock of lightning, bursts into platoon fire; and so continues,
steady at the rate of five shots a minute,--hard to endure by poor
masses all in a coil. "The artillery tore down whole ranks of us," says
the Wutenberg Dragoon; [His Letter in MULLER, p. 83.] "the Prussian
musketry did terrible execution."

Things began %o waver very soon, French reeling back from the Prussian
fire, Reichs troops rocking very uneasy, torn by such artillery; when,
to crown the matter, Seidlitz, seeing all things rock to the due extent,
bursts out of Tageswerben Hollow, terribly compact and furious, upon the
rear of them. Which sets all things into inextricable tumble; and the
Battle is become a rout and a riding into ruin, no Battle ever more.
Lasted twenty-five minutes, this second act of it, or till half-past
four: after which, the curtains rapidly descending (Night's curtain,
were there no other) cover the remainder; the only stage-direction,
EXEUNT OMNES. Which for a 50 or 60,000, ridden over by Seidlitz Horse,
was not quite an easy matter! They left, of killed and wounded, near
3,000; of prisoners, 5,000 (Generals among them 8, Officers 300): in
sum, about 8,000; not to mention cannon, 67 or 72; with standards,
flags, kettle-drums and meaner baggages AD LIBITUM in a manner. The
Prussian loss was, 165 killed, 376 wounded;--between a sixteenth and a
fifteenth part of theirs: in number the Prussians had been little more
than one to three; 22,000 of all arms,--not above half of whom ever came
into the fire; Seidlitz and seven battalions doing all the fighting that
was needed, St. Germain tried to cover the retreat; but "got broken,"
he says,--Mayer bursting in on him,--and soon went to slush like the
others.

Seldom, almost never, not even at Crecy or Poictiers, was any Army
better beaten. And truly, we must say, seldom did any better deserve
it, so far as the Chief Parties went. Yes, Messieurs, this is the PETIT
MARQUIS DE BRANDEBOURG; you will know this one, when you meet him again!
The fl