now is, about fifteen miles to east. Their Uhlans circulate through
the intervening space (were much patrolling needed, in such quiet
circumstances), and maintain the due communication. There lies Prince
Karl, on Saturday night, 20th November, 1745; an Army of perhaps 40,000,
dnngerously straggling out above twenty miles long; and appears to see
no difficulty ahead. The Saxons, I think, are to continue where they
are; guarding the flank, while the Prince and Lobkowitz push
forward, closer by Neisse River. In four marches more, they can be in
Brandenburg, with Guben and their Magazines at hand.

Seeing which state of matters, Winterfeld gives Friedrich notice of
it; and that he, Winterfeld, thinks the moment is come. "Pontoons to
Naumburg, then!" orders Friedrich. Winterfeld, at the proper moment, is
to form a Bridge there. One permanent Bridge there already is; and two
fords, one above it, one below: with a second Bridge, there will be
roadway for four columns, and a swift transit when needful. Sunday,
21st, Friedrich quits the Bober, diligently towards Naumburg; marches
Sunday, Monday; Tuesday, 23d, about eleven A.M., begins to arrive there;
Winterfeld and passages all ready. Forward, then, and let us drive in
upon Prince Karl; and either cut him in two, or force him to fight us;
he little thinks where or on what terms. Sure enough, in the worst place
we can choose for him! Friedrich begins crossing in four columns at
one P.M.; crosses continuously for four hours; unopposed, except some
skirmishing of Uhlans, while his Cavalry is riding the Fords to right
and left; Uhlans were driven back swiftly, so soon as the Cavalry got
over. At five in the evening, he has got entirely across, 35,000 horse
and foot: Ziethen is chasing the Uhlans at full speed; who at least will
show us the way,--for by this time a mist has begun falling, and the
brief daylight is done.

Friedrich himself, without waiting for the rear of his force, and some
while before this mist fell (as I judge), is pushing forward, "a miller
lad for his guide," across to Hennersdorf,--Katholisch-Hennersdorf, a
long straggling Village, eight or ten miles off, and itself two miles
long,--where he understands the Saxons are. Miller lad guides us, over
height and hollow, with his best skill, at a brisk pace;--through one
hollow, where he has known the cattle pasture in summer time; but which
proves impassable, and mere quagmire, at this season. No getting through
i