strious Frederick had scores of these white
slave-dealers all round the frontiers of his kingdom, debauching troops
or kidnapping peasants, and hesitating at no crime to supply those
brilliant regiments of his with food for powder; and I cannot help
telling here, with some satisfaction, the fate which ultimately befell
the atrocious scoundrel who, violating all the rights of friendship and
good-fellowship, had just succeeded in entrapping me. This individual
was a person of high family and known talents and courage, but who had
a propensity to gambling and extravagance, and found his calling as a
recruit-decoy far more profitable to him than his pay of second captain
in the line. The sovereign, too, probably found his services more useful
in the former capacity. His name was Monsieur de Galgenstein, and he was
one of the most successful of the practisers of his rascally trade. He
spoke all languages, and knew all countries, and hence had no difficulty
in finding out the simple braggadocio of a young lad like me.

About 1765, however, he came to his justly merited end. He was at this
time living at Kehl, opposite Strasburg, and used to take his walk upon
the bridge there, and get into conversation with the French advanced
sentinels; to whom he was in the habit of promising 'mountains and
marvels,' as the French say, if they would take service in Prussia.
One day there was on the bridge a superb grenadier, whom Galgenstein
accosted, and to whom he promised a company, at least, if he would
enlist under Frederick.

'Ask my comrade yonder,' said the grenadier; 'I can do nothing without
him. We were born and bred together, we are of the same company, sleep
in the same room, and always go in pairs. If he will go and you will
give him a captaincy, I will go too.'

'Bring your comrade over to Kehl,' said Galgenstein, delighted. 'I will
give you the best of dinners, and can promise to satisfy both of you.'

'Had you not better speak to him on the bridge?' said the grenadier.
'I dare not leave my post; but you have but to pass, and talk over the
matter.'

Galgenstein, after a little parley, passed the sentinel; but presently a
panic took him, and he retraced his steps. But the grenadier brought
his bayonet to the Prussian's breast and bade him stand: that he was his
prisoner.

The Prussian, however, seeing his danger, made a bound across the bridge
and into the Rhine; whither, flinging aside his musket, the intrepid
sentry