was no easy thing to procure in this dismal, deserted
village. The adjutant succeeded at last, however, in getting a few
small tallow candles, and placing them in old bottles, in the absence of
candlesticks of any description, he carried them to the king. Frederick
did not observe him; he stood at the open window, gazing earnestly
at the starry firmament. The bright light aroused him; he turned, and
approached the table.

"My last letters!" murmured he, sinking upon the wooden stool, and
opening his portfolio.

How his enemies would have rejoiced, could they have seen him in that
wretched hovel! He first wrote to General Fink, to whom he wished to
leave the command of his army. He must fulfil the duties of state,
before those of friendship. It was not a letter--rather an order to
General Fink, and read as follows:

"General Fink will find this a weary and tedious commission. The army
I leave is no longer in a condition to defend itself from the Russians.
Haddeck will hasten to Berlin. Loudon also, I presume. If you intercept
them, the Russians will be in your rear; if you remain by the Oder,
Haddeck will surround you. I nevertheless believe, were Loudon to come
to Berlin, you could attack and defeat him. This, were it possible,
would give you time to arrange matters, and I can assure you, time
is every thing, in such desperate circumstances as ours. Koper, my
secretary, will give you the dispatches from Torgau and Dresden. You
must acquaint my brother, whom I make general-in-chief of the army, with
all that passes. In the mean time, his orders must be obeyed. The army
must swear by my nephew. This is the only advice I am able to give. Had
I any resources, I would stand fast by you. FREDERICK." [Footnote: The
king's own words.]

"Yes, I would have stood by them," murmured the king, as he folded and
addressed his letter. "I would have borne still longer this life of
oppression and privation; but now, honor demands that I should die."

He took another sheet of paper. It was now no order or command, but a
tender, loving, farewell letter to his friend, General Finkenstein.

"This morning, at eleven o'clock, I attacked the enemy; we drove them
back to Gudenberg. All my men performed deeds of daring and bravery,
but, at the storming of Gudenberg, a terrific number of lives were lost.
My army became separated. I reassembled them three times, but in vain.
At last, they fled in wild disorder. I very nearly became a prisoner