eared in the neighbourhood of Berlin;
after that, they were expected daily in the cities which lay further to
the west; daily did the boys go out of the gates to spy out whether a
troop of them could be descried coming. When, at last, their arrival
was announced, young and old streamed through the streets. They were
welcomed with joyful acclamations, eagerly did citizens carry to them
whatever would rejoice the hearts of the strangers; it was thought that
brandy, sauerkraut, and herrings would suit their national taste.
Everything about them was admired; their strong, thick beards, long
dark hair, thick sheepskins, wide blue trowsers, and their weapons,
pikes, long Turkish pistols, often of costly work, which they wore in
broad leather girdles round their bodies, and the crooked Turkish
sabre. With transport were they watched when they supported themselves
on their lances and vaulted nimbly over thick cushion saddles, which
served at the same time as sacks for their mantles; or couched their
lances, urging on their lean horses with loud hurrahs; and, again, when
they fastened their lances by a thong to the arm and trotted along,
swinging that foreign instrument, the kantschu, to the astonishment of
the youths--everyone stepped aside and looked at them with respect. All
were enchanted also with their style of riding. They bent themselves
down to the ground at full gallop, and lifted up the smallest objects.
At the quickest pace they whirled their pikes round their heads, and
hit with certainty any object at which they aimed. Astonishment soon
changed to a feeling of intimacy; they quickly won the heart of the
people. They were particularly friendly to the young, raised the
children on their horses, and rode with them round the market-place;
they sang in families in what was supposed to be the Cossack's style.
Every boy became either a Cossack, or a Cossack's horse. Some of the
customs, indeed, of these heroic friends were rather unpleasant, they
were ill-mannered enough to pilfer, and at their night quarters it was
plainly perceptible that they were not clean. Nevertheless, there long
remained a fantastic glitter about them among both friends and foes,
even when in the struggles that were now carried on among civilised
men, they showed themselves to be plunderers, not trustworthy, and
little serviceable. When later they returned home from the war, it was
remarked that they had much degenerated.

The newspapers were only