dering homewards with the outfit from Kriesewitz,
flounders at this moment into Saldern's sphere of vision: 'Whence,
whither?' asks Saldern: 'Dost thou know where the Austrians are?'
(RECHT GUT: in Mollwitz), whither I am going!' Saldern takes him to
the King,--and that was the first clear light his Majesty had on the
matter." [Fuchs, pp. 6, 7.] That or something equivalent, indisputably
was; Saldern and "a Peasant," the account of it in all the Books.

The King says to this Peasant, "Thou shalt ride with me to-day!" And
Scholzke, Ploschke others call him,--heavy-footed rational biped knowing
the ground there practically, every yard of it,--did, as appears, attend
the King all morning; and do service, that was recognizable long years
afterwards. "For always," say the Books, "when the King held review
here, Ploschke failed not to make appearance on the field of Pogarell,
and get recognition and a gift from his Majesty."

At break of day the ranking and arranging began. Pogarell clock is near
striking ten, when the last squadron or battalion quits Pogarell; and
the Four Columns, punctiliously correct, are all under way. Two on each
side of Ohlau Highway; steadily advancing, with pioneers ahead to clear
any obstacle there may be. Few obstacles; here and there a little ditch
(where Ploschke's advice may be good, under the sleek of the snow), no
fences, smooth wide Plain, nothing you would even call a knoll in it
for many miles ahead and around. Mollwitz is some seven miles north from
Pogarell; intermediate lie dusty fractions of Villages more than one;
two miles or more from Mollwitz we come to Pampitz on our left, the next
considerable, if any of them can be counted considerable.

"All these Dorfs, and indeed most German ones," says my Tourist, "are
made on one type; an agglomerate of dusty farmyards, with their stalls
and barns; all the farmyards huddled together in two rows; a broad
negligent road between, seldom mended, never swept except by the
elements. Generally there is nothing to be seen, on each hand, but
thatched roofs, dead clay walls and rude wooden gates; sometimes a poor
public-house, with probable beer in it; never any shop, nowhere any
patch of swept pavement, or trim gathering-place for natives of a social
gossipy turn: the road lies sleepy, littery, good only for utilitarian
purposes. In the middle of the Village stands Church and Churchyard,
with probably some gnarled trees around it: Church often large