ing in the air, overhead of these Belvedere
Pleasure-grounds: perhaps Prince Karl will remedy this oversight; fruit
of close following of the orthodox practice? Prince Karl, supreme Chief,
commands on the left wing; Browne on the right, where he can attack or
be attacked, NOT on hippogriffs. As we shall see, and others will! Light
horse, in any quantity, hang scattered on all outskirts. With foot, with
cannon batteries, with horse, light or heavy, they cover in long broad
flood the whole of that Zisca Slope, to near where it ceases, and the
ground to eastward begins perceptibly to rise again.

In this latter quarter, Zisca Slope, now nearly ended, begins to get
very swampy in parts; on the eastern border of the Austrian Camp, at
Kyge, Hostawitz, and beyond it southward, about Sterbohol and Michelup,
there are many little lakelets; artificial fish-ponds, several of them,
with their sluices, dams and apparatus: a ragged broadish lacing of
ponds and lakelets (all well dried in our day) straggles and zigzags
along there, connected by the miserablest Brook in nature, which takes
to oozing and serpentizing forward thereabouts, and does finally get
emptied, now in a rather livelier condition, into the Moldau, about the
TOE-part of that Horse-shoe or Belvedere region. It runs in sight of the
King, I think, where he now is; this lower livelier part of it: little
does the King know how important the upper oozing portion of it will
be to him this day. Near Michelup are lakelets worth noticing; a little
under Sterbohol, in the course of this miserable Brook, is a string of
fish-ponds, with their sluices open at this time, the water out, and
the mud bottom sown with herb-provender for the intended carps, which
is coming on beautifully, green as leeks, and nearly ready for the fish
getting to it again.

Friedrich surveys diligently what he can of all this, from the northern
verge. We will now return to Friedrich; and will stay on his side
through the terrible Action that is coming. Battle of Prag, one of the
furious Battles of the World; loud as Doomsday;--the very Emblem of
which, done on the Piano by females of energy, scatters mankind to
flight who love their ears! Of this great Action the Narratives old and
modern are innumerable; false some of them, unintelligible well-nigh
all. There are three in Lloyd, known probably to some of my readers.
Tempelhof, with criticisms of these three, gives a fourth,--perhaps the
one Narrative w