length; old General Bredow
repeating it aloud, [Pollnitz, ii. 561.] sentence by sentence, the
King's own voice being too weak; so that all may hear: "That he
abdicates, gives up wholly, in favor of his good Son Friedrich; that
foreign Ambassadors are to be informed; that you are all to be true and
loyal to my Son as you were to me"--and what else is needful. To which
the judicious Podewils makes answer, "That there must first be a written
Deed of his high Transaction executed, which shall be straightway set
about; the Deed once executed, signed and sealed,--the high Royal will,
in all points, takes effect." Alas, before Podewils has done speaking,
the King is like falling into a faint; does faint, and is carried to
bed: too unlikely any Deed of Abdication will be needed.

Ups and downs there still were; sore fluctuating labor, as the poor King
struggles to his final rest, this morning. He was at the window again,
when the WACHT-PARADE (Grenadiers on Guard) turned out; he saw them make
their evolutions for the last time. [Pauli, viii. 280.] After which, new
relapse, new fluctuation. It was about eleven o'clock, when Cochius was
again sent for. The King lay speechless, seemingly still conscious, in
bed; Cochius prays with fervor, in a loud tone, that the dying King may
hear and join. "Not so loud!" says the King, rallying a little. He
had remembered that it was the season when his servants got their new
liveries; they had been ordered to appear this day in full new costume:
"O vanity! O vanity!" said Friedrich Wilhelm, at sight of the ornamented
plush. "Pray for me, pray for me; my trust is in the Saviour!" he often
said. His pains, his weakness are great; the cordage of a most tough
heart rending itself piece by piece. At one time, he called for a
mirror: that is certain:--rugged wild man, son of Nature to the last.
The mirror was brought; what he said at sight of his face is variously
reported: "Not so worn out as I thought," is Pollnitz's account, and the
likeliest;--though perhaps he said several things, "ugly face," "as
good as dead already;" and continued the inspection for some moments.
[Pollnitz, ii. 564; Wilhelmina, ii. 321.] A grim, strange thing.

"Feel mv pulse, Pitsch," said he, noticing the Surgeon of his Giants:
"tell me how long this will last."--"Alas, not long," answered
Pitsch.--"Say not, alas; but how do you (He) know?"--"The pulse is
gone!"--"Impossible," said he, lifting his arm: "how could I move my