ween the two Lines; Romer chasing,--till the fire of the
Infantry (intolerable to our enemies, and hitting some even of our
fugitive friends) repels him. For the notable point in all this was
the conduct of the Infantry; and how it stood in these wild vortexes
of ruin; impregnable, immovable, as if every man of it were stone;
and steadily poured out deluges of fire,--"five Prussian shots for two
Austrian:"--such is perfect discipline against imperfect; and the iron
ramrod against the wooden.

The intolerable fire repels Romer, when he trenches on the Infantry:
however, he captures nine of the Prussian sixty guns; has scattered
their Horse to the winds; and charges again and again, hoping to break
the Infantry too,--till a bullet kills him, the gallant Romer; and
some other has to charge and try. It was thought, had Goldlein with his
Austrian Infantry advanced to support Romer at this juncture, the Battle
had been gained. Five times, before Romer fell and after, the Austrians
charged here; tried the Second Line too; tried once to take Prince
Leopold in rear there. But Prince Leopold faced round, gave intolerable
fire; on one face as on the other, he, or the Prussian Infantry
anywhere, is not to be broken. "Prince Friedrich", one of the Margraves
of Schwedt, King's Cousin, whom we did not know before, fell in these
wild rallyings and wrestlings; "by a cannon-ball, at the King's hand,"
not said otherwise where. He had come as Volunteer, few weeks ago,
out of Holland, where he was a rising General: he has met his fate
here,--and Margraf Karl, his Brother, who also gets wounded, will be a
mournful man to-night.

The Prussian Horse, this right wing of it, is a ruined body; boiling in
wild disorder, flooding rapidly away to rearward,--which is the safest
direction to retreat upon. They "sweep away the King's person with
them," say some cautious people; others say, what is the fact, that
Schwerin entreated, and as it were commanded, the King to go; the Battle
being, to all appearance, irretrievable. Go he did, with small escort,
and on a long ride,--to Oppeln, a Prussian post, thirty-five miles
rearward, where there is a Bridge over the Oder and a safe country
beyond. So much is indubitable; and that he despatched an Aide-de-camp
to gallop into Brandenburg, and tell the Old Dessauer, "Bestir yourself!
Here all seems lost!"--and vanished from the Field, doubtless in very
desperate humor. Upon which the extraneous world has babb