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      "Thank you. But, uncle, my name is Bergan, not Harry."

      "Seems!" repeated her uncle, gruffly. "What is the matter with him?"

      "No one can keep step with him but Arling," remarked a third; "if he gets well enough, there will be a close race between them."

      Or, take that common saying, 'To carry coals to Newcastle,' which seems to have originated in the East. At least, we find it first in the Persian of Saadi, 'To carry pepper to Hindostan;' then the Hebrews have it, 'To carry oil to the City of Olives;' the Greeks, 'owls to Athens;' the Latins, 'wood to the forest;' the French, 'water to the river;' the Dutch, 'firs to Norway;' the DanishHallo! Pegasus! what are you about?"

      Mr. Bergan rose hastily. "I am quite content to leave that to you, my dear."


      When Fritz was seven years of age, he was taken from the care of his female teachers and placed under tutors who had been carefully selected for him. They were all military officers who had won renown on fields of blood. The first of these was M. Duhan, a French gentleman of good birth and acquirements. He was but thirty years of age. By his accomplishments he won the esteem, and by his amiability the love, of his pupil. Count Finkenstein, the second, was a veteran general, sixty years old, who also secured the affections of little Fritz. Colonel Kalkstein was twenty-eight years of age. He was a thorough soldier and a man of honor. For forty years, until his death, he retained the regards of his pupil, who was ever accustomed to speak of him as my master Kalkstein. In the education of the young32 prince every thing was conducted in accordance with the most inflexible routine. From the minute directions given to the teachers in a document drawn up by the father, bunglingly expressed and wretchedly spelled, we cull out the following:


      "I shall know mine," observed the overseer, confidently, as he lifted the pen.


      It was on the 9th of December that the king, after incredible exposure to hunger, and cold, and night-marchings, established himself for the winter in the shattered apartments of his ruined palace at Breslau. He tried to assume a cheerful aspect in public, but spent most of his hours alone, brooding over the ruin which now seemed inevitable. He withdrew from all society, scarcely spoke to any body except upon business. One day General Lentulus dined with him, and not one word was spoken at the table. On the 18th of January, 1762, the king wrote in the following desponding tones to DArgens: