The New Hampshire Gazette

LONDON. October 15.

Translation of a Letter said to have been written by a certain great Princess to the King of Prussia.

May it please your Majesty,

" I am at a loss whether I should congratulate or condole with you on your late victory ; since the same success which has covered you with laurels, have overspread the country of Mecklenburg with desolation. I know, Sire, that this seems unbecoming my sex, in this age of vicious refinement, to feel for one's country; to lament the horrors of war, or wish for the return of peace. I know you may think it more properly my province to study the arts of pleasing. or to inspect subjects of a more domestic nature.

but however unbecoming it may be in me, I can't resist the desire of interceeding for this unhappy people.

It was but a very few years ago that this territory wore the most pleasing appearance. The country was cultivated, the peasants look'd cheerful. and the towns abounded with riches and festivity. What an alteration at present from such a charming scene!

I am not expert at description, nor can my fancy add any horrors to the picture ; but sure even conquerors themselves would weep at the hideous prospect now before me. The whole country, my dear country lies one frightful waste, presenting only objects to excite terror, pity, and despair. The business of the husbandman and the shepherd are quite discontinued ; the husbandman and the shepherd-are become soldiers themselves, and help to ravage the soil they formerly cultivated. The towns are inhabited only by old men, women and children ; perhaps here and there a warrior, by wounds or loss of limbs, rendered unfit for service, left at his door ; his little children hang round him, ask an history of every wound, and grow themselves soldiers before they find strength for the field. But this were nothing, did we not feel the alternate insolence of either army as it happens to advance or retreat, in pursuing the operations of the campaign ; it is impossible to express the confusion even those, who call themselves, our friends create. Even those from whom we might expect redress, oppress us with new calamities. From your justice therefore it is that we hope relief; to you even children and women may complain, whose humanity stoops to the meanest petition, and whose power is capable of repressing the greatest injustice.

I am, Sire, &c."