igence to give, that I had not left him in the
fangs of the jailers of St Lazare. I took leave of my bold and
open-hearted Prussian friend with a regret, which I had scarcely
expected to feel for one with whom I had been thrown into contact
simply by the rough chances of campaigning; but I had the
gratification of procuring for him, through the mysterious interest
of Elnathan, an order for his transmission to Berlin in the first
exchange of prisoners. This promise seemed to compensate all the
services which he had rendered to me. "I shall see the Rhine again,"
said he, "which is much more than I ever expected since the day of
our misfortune. "I shall see the Rhine again!--and thanks to you for
it." He pressed my hand with honest gratitude.

The carriage which was to convey me to Calais was now at the door.
Still, one thought as uppermost in his mind; it was, that I should
give due credit to the bravery of the Austrian general and his army.
"If I have spoken of the engagement at all," said he, "it was merely
to put you in possession of the facts. You return to England; you
will of course hear the battle which lost the Netherlands discussed
in various versions. The opinion of England decides the opinion of
Europe. Tell, then, your countrymen, in vindication of Clairfait and
his troops, that after holding his ground for nine hours against
three times his force, he retreated with the steadiness of a movement
on parade, without leaving behind him a single gun, colour, or
prisoner. Tell them, too, that he was defeated only through the
marvellous negligence of a government which left him to fight battles
without brigades, defend fortresses without guns, and protect
insurgent provinces with a fugitive army."

My answer was--"You may rely upon my fighting your battles over the
London dinner-tables, as perseveringly, if not as much against odds,
as you fought it in the field. But the fortune of war is proverbial,
and I hope yet to pour out a libation to you as Generalissimo
Varnsdorf, the restorer of the Austrian laurels."

"Well, Marston, may you be a true prophet! But read that letter from
Guiscard; our long-headed friend not merely crops our German laurels,
but threatens to root up the tree." He handed me a letter from the
Prussian philosopher: it was a curious _catalogue raisonne_ of the
_im_probabilities of success in the general war of Europe against the
Republic; concluding with the words, so characteristic of his solem