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victory more serviceable to his party than the |seen assisting to sign the peace by which his victory itself.

exhausted country was again restored to peace He now began to grow old, high in fame and and prosperity. Carefully as all ostentation was rank, and possessing wealth and the leisure to avoided, yet wherever the spectator turned his enjoy it. Enjoying the rank of field-marshal, | eye, he observed some glorious scene from the and a considerable salary, he passed the greatest life of the heroic veteran. part of the year on his estate in the country, spend. This plan the Colonel kept a profound secret, ing but a very few months in the noisy capital. and a few days after the saloon was finished, he It was only on particular occasions that his so gave a grand entertainment in it to a numerous vereign applied to him for his advice, but he had company. It is scarcely possible to conceive the always the satisfaction of seeing that it was surprize of the old Count, at his entrance, when followed. All the courtiers testified the highest le beheld so many testimonies of his merits, and respect for him ; by all the good he was beloved, il when the novelty of the thing itself, the cona and from the soldiery he received the endearing gratulations of all the company, and a mixed appellation of father.

emotion of modesty and delight quite overBut he was still more happy in the circle of powered him. It was some minutes before his his family. It was, indeed, but small, for he was feelings allowed him the power of utterance, the father of only two daughters and one son. when with a look of affection he thus addressed The former were the wives of virtuous men, and his son : “You did right to keep this intention the latter, who had already attained the rank of of yours a secret from me, if you were bent on colonel, had come by an advantageous marriage executing it; I should otherwise have prevented into the possession of considerable property, and what now it is 100 late to hinder. To reprove an estate contiguous to that of his father, whose you for it now would certainly be regarded a example he incessantly emulated, and not with. mere farce; and I therefore consider this series of out success. Never was father more tenderly paintings as a tribute of filial respect, not as food attached to his son ; never did son treat his father for my vanily. But, buta" continued he, with greater respect.

shaking his head with an equivocal smile. The young Count once added a whole wing to « What do you mean to say, father?" his mansion, and in this wing he constructed a “ That this painted biography partakes of all very beautiful saloon. The walls of the latter the errors of those which are written without the required to be decorated with paintings, and for il knowledge and consent of the heroes of them. the subjects of thein the Colonel selected the Too often this or the other circumstance is principal events of the glorious life of his father, omitted, and yet perhaps this very circumstance

These scenes, as he rightly judged, would far which is thus omitted is the principle truit of the surpass the most costly tapestry that he could | whole. In this instance too ,” procure, and would be more bonourable than U Here he pauscd, and as he uttered the last the completest genealogy. To execute this idea, words, the air of paternal affection was changed he employed the most celebrated painters in the into a half satirical smile. He was requested to country, and their labours were the more success- | finish what he was going to say, and concluded ful, because they were convinced that they were as follows: “In this instance, too, if the short not exerting their talents merely for a pecuniary compass of my life is to be thus represented, one reward, but on a subject worthy of immortality. very heroic action is wanting; an action so im.

On one side the Count was seen throwing a || portant in its result, that were it not for that, we Standard with his own hands into the midst of the should not perhaps this day be so cheerfully enemy's cavalry, that by this truly Roman stra- || assembled, or at least not under the same cir. tagem, he might aniinate the wavering ranks of cumstances as at present, Remind me, my son, his own troops to a new attack. In another of this subject to-imorrow at tea; it would indeed place he was represented at the storining of a l be a pity were it to be lost." besieged town, forgeliing that he was the general, The Marshal was again urged on all sides to sharing the dangers of the meanest soldiers, and favour the whole company with a relation of the inflaming their ardour by his example. In a l anecdote, but he persisted with a smile in his rethird piece, he was seen rescuing bis sovereign fusal. Finding their intreaties unavailing, they from the hands of a hostile corps by whom he sat down to table, and the preceding conversahad, while hunting, been surprised and taken tion was, or seemed to be soon forgotten, prisoner. Ang her represented bin in another The young Count Ven B had, however, battle, sinking wounded from his borse, and at treasured up every syllable his father had uttered, the same moment pointing with his hand to the land did not forget at the appointed time to remind enemy, as if to say: “ Push forward, and give him of his promise. "'Tis no more than I exyourselves no concern about me." Again he was pectel," replied the Field-marshal smiling, " and

No. XXII. Vol. III.

alous.

it is but just that I should acquit myself of this if the blood of several of my own soldiers, to re. debt, but let us first go into the saloon and be strain their disposition for murdering, plundering alone there for a few minutes.” They accord and burning. On my return, the Prince thanked ingly went.

me before the whole court, and ihe same day ap. . « You have concluded the series of pictures," \ pointed the primo minister's sun, a boy of sevensaid the veteran, “ with that in which the teen, to the post of governor of the newly conmonarch confers on me the order of knighthood, Il quered place. He most graciously offered ine and the marshal's truncheon. This is a great || the next command under this stripling, and violation of historical truth, for you have here

|| seemed astonished when I refused it. It was not combined in one moment events that were se without the greatest difficulty that I escaped being parated by an interval of fifteen years, and have exiled or confined for life in a fortification, after blended the actions of two different princes per that peace, which, notwithstanding my unlimited formed under totally different circunstances. powers, I might perhaps have been in too great That, however, is not of much consequence.. a hurry to conclude; for I forgot to insist on the But from the place which that picture occupies, ll cession of a tract containing more than twelve would not every spectator suppose that the rank | hundred acres, merely from the silly apprehenof Field-marshal had been conferred on me as a | sion lest the war should continue another year, reward for some of the actions commemorated and cost us some millions more of money, and here, or for the whole of them together ?" some thousands of human lives. Young Count. Most certainly.

Young Count. By God, father, that was Old Count. And yet nothing can be more erroneous; for the achievement, which obtained Old Court. Let me finish! The best is yet to so high a reward, is totally omitted in this series. come. You must have seen the snuff-box, which

Young Count. How so, father? Is it possible li the rescue of my sovereign while hunting prothat from forgetfulness

cured me. It was certainly rather rash of him Old Count. Not from forgetfulness, but from to take such a diversion in an enemy's country, ignorance, which I excuse as readily as your and that too at a time when every peasant might present surprize. You were very young when I

be considered as a foe or a spy. I had, however, obtained this promotion. I never mentioned the

my spies, and kept a body of men on whom I circumstance either to you or to any other per

could depend in readiness. The enemy were son, and I must first look round to see that we

obliged to relinquish their booty, and I was preare quite alone.

sented with that box, of the value of perhaps one Young Count. We are.

hundred and fifty dollars, as an indemnification Old Count. Let us then go through this for the loss of a fine borse, worth at least a thouseries of actions, as well as the rewards conferred sand. The chamberlain by the Prince's side, for them! This lame arm is a consequence of who manfully clapped his hand to his cutlass, but that batile, in which with such boldness and | unfortunately never drew it, was appointed success I threw our standard among the hostile | marshal of the court for his faithful services. It squadrons. The left wing was already flying, was supposed some tokens of discontent were and the right began to finch. The latter now perceived in me, and on that account I was likepressed onward, and the former rallied. I was wise presented with this order, which put me to then only major, and a major I remained. My ll a great expence without producing the smallest general, one of the first that took to his heels in | advantage. You look grave, my son, more so order to preserve his precious life, received a than I wished. What will you do, when I tell considerable gratuity as a recompence for his con- you, that for fifteen years I remained just what I duct on that arduous day. In that battle when I was? I fell wounded from my horse, I was taken pri Young Count. Fifteen years; but, perhaps, soner; my wound was badly healed, I was for purposely, father; perhaps from self-lenial? gotten in the exchange, and was at length ran Old Count. It would certainly sound well in somed from my own private property.

me to assume the tone of a philosopher, practisYoung Count. How?

ing the austerities of self-denial. But truth is Old Count. (Proceeding, as though he had not superior to such a character, though perhaps heard his son's exclamation.) The scar on truth may not sound so agreeably. It was not my forehead reminds me but too well, without from my own fault (for love to my family made any picture, of that fortress, which cost us almost me eagerly desirous of promotion) that I remained a whole campaign, and which, at last, I may say unrewarded, but because there were always it without vanity, was taken and preserved in courtiers who, if not more worthy, were at least consequence of my dispositions alone. I repeat, more fortunate; because the Prince whose life, preserved, for I was obliged to dye my sword in liberty, and glory I had more than once preserved,

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at length died, and his successor considered services || She was indeed beautiful as the yoddess of love, previously rendered to the state, as already recom- but with respect to the qualities of the heart and penced Weary of hollow promises, of tedious understanding, nature had been very sparing. She expectation and disappointed hope, I was on the returned my salutation with an air of great nepoint of relinquishing the matter entirely and of gligence, and drove a few hundred paces further retiring into the obscurity of a country life, when to the Dutch farm-house, which, as you know, furtune afforded me an opportunity for an achieve stands close to the river, where her carriage ment, which immediately procured me prono stopped. In order to avoid passing by them tion and realized all my wishes.

again, I was just going to turn my horse into a Young Count. And what was that achieve bridle-road to the left, when a most lamentable ment? I entreat you, my excellent father, to Il outcry assailed my ear. It proceeded from those speak without reserve! What was it?

ladies; I saw them running to and fro in great Old Count. (Smiling), o it might easily be || trepidation; and apprehensive lest some accident painted too. A river of considerable breadth, | might have happened, I rode up to the spot, from a some ladies shrieking and weeping on the bank, | natural movement, as fast as I could. The mistress myself on horseback almost in the middle of the of his excellency, as soon as she perceived me stream, and in my hands a dripping, half-drowned coming, ran to meet me, with a countenance Tap-dog. Not too inany objects; are they, think | indicative of the utmost distress. "O, Geneyou?

ral!" cried she, long before I reached the spot, Young Count. How, father ; are you serious ? || Can the saving of a lap-dog

yonder he is in the water; he cannot get out, Ou Count. Yes, the saving of a lap-dog was we cannot go after him; he will be lost !" the important achievement which procured me a Without farther reflection, or transferring this sicher recompence than all the blood I lost on so | duty to the person to whom it properly belonged, many different occasions; than a service of thirty I mean my servant, I spurred my horse into the years, often embittered by distress; than the ex- || river, caught the unfortunate favourite, who, had ertions of so many days and the watching of so I been a moment later must inevitably have gone many nights. It would be easy for me to raise to the bottom, and restored him to his mistress. your astonishment still higher, were I to describe || Such a scene now took place that it was difficult the dog itself, old, infirm, with only one eye, re. || to suppress, I will not say a smile, but loud bursts markable neither for form nor colour; or, were I || of laughter. It is impossible for the tenderest to delineate its mistress, to expatiate on her intrin mother to express more extravagant joy over sic merit, her descent, which was the very reverse her only son, whom she supposes among the of noble. But no, a regular narrative is better than slain and who returns unhurt to her embraces. such a disjointed account: listen then to me! I Besides, the high-flown congratulations of the was one morning taking a ride full of thought. company, their emulation to caress the little The rank of a Field marshal had just then become favourite, and their fear lest he should wet their vacant by the death of Von - There clothes; their exclamations, out-cries, and talkwere many applicants for it ; I was one, the oldest ing all together, produced a scene of confusion and the most experienced; but I foresaw that I that was irresistibly ludicrous. Thinking that I should apply in vain ; for the minister, Von had performed my part, I was going to take K— , was at that time more uncontroled mo | leave and ride away, when the overjoyed lady narch of the state than the sovereign himself, and so urgently entreated me to favour them a little the Prince had often given the friends of the longer with my company, that I suffered myself favourite the preference to his own. He was, to be persuaded, alighted and offered her my to be sure, well enough disposed to me; I knew, I. arm. “General," whispered she, taking hold of however, that he expected Aattery from every ll it, if I ever forget this service, or let it pass unone that approached him ; but I was much too rewarded; if the minister be not from this day proud to pay court to a man, who was trembling your warmest friend; if your present application at the rod of the schoolmaster, at a time when I be not speedily successful; or if I ever suffer was confronting danger and death in the field of you to ask for any favour in vain, may the same battle. The success of my application might || accident which to-day happened to my lap-dog, easily be predicted even without any spirit of befal me the next time I go abroad." I bowed, prophecy. I was riding, as I said, and lost in in token of obligation, but without making any thought, when a carriage passed me; I looked | reply; for to confess the iruth, I was too proud to up and perceived in it the mistress of the fa express much gratitude to such a woman, and yet vourite, a creature who had raised herself from too attentive to my own interest entirely to reject the situation of chambermaid to the possession any advantage that threw itself in my way. At of unbounded influence over her former master. ll. U %

any rate, I was fully resolved never 10 put her in science attested that I had earned this elevation mind again of the affair.

by many preceding actions, be assured that I Next morning, however, the minister drew me should have refused it; but a survey of my past to the corner of a window in the Prince's anti- life, and a look at you, caused me to accept the chamber, and assured me, that the sovereign had proffered promotion. It is indeed possible that lately mentioned me several times in the hand I may be mistaken in my conjectures; the whole somest terms; that he had confirmed him in may have been a mere coincidence of the circumthese favourable sentiments, and had the strongest stances. But yet, my son, I cannot help thinking hope that he should soon be able to congratulate that the poor dog deserved a place, and I shall at me on the attainment of my wishes. He was least wish that you may once have occasion to right; for the same month I was promoted to relate a similar story to your son. the rank which I now hold. Had not my con

A DESCRIPTION OF POLAND,

WITH RESPECT TO THE PERSONS, MANNERS, DRESS, &c. OF THE PEOPLE.

I am in doubt, whether I should call the il face expressive og intelligence, with the total Poles a tall people, or not. That there are many absence of all indications of laborious effort. above the common stature, is unquestionable; | His inanners are condescending, kind, and famibut I think the idea will be more fairly yene- || liar, beyond all praise. Every one feels at ease ralized by the assertion, that they are about the in his company, from his various and extensive middle size. They are rarely corpulent. Their com knowledge, buth of books and of men, he can plexions are fair, often colourless, and generally adapı himself with facility to all persons and chawith far less colour than the English. The eyesracters. Yet he has more real dignity than is and hair are usually lighi, though there are many | often seen even in persons of the first runk. In beautiful exceptions. It never struck me, that truth, he cannot help being conscious that he they possess any strongly marked peculiarity of loses nothing by a near inspection. His intel. feature. The general expression of the coun- | lectual superiority screens him from the possibitenance is, amiable, friendly, and interesting- lity of all contempt, as an effect of familiarity. the natural result of their general character. The more intimately he is known, the more sin

There are no traces remaining of that bold and cerely is he loved, the more certainly admired daring spirit, which so peculiarly characterised But the quality which imparts the great charm the rugged virtues of their Sarmatian ancestors. to his manners and conversation is, the real and I by no means intend to say, that they are de manifest benigniiy of heart, which flows in every ficient in the ordinary and gentlemanly courage; || word, and prompts to every action. I have often but we no where discover those symptoms of heard him spoken of by different people, on ocstrong thought which impels to intelligent ac-casions, and in situations, which totally precluded tiyity and enterprize.

all sentiments of Aattery or views of interest; Their manners are singularly polite, open, and and the genuine expressions of affection and affable-no insolent pride, no disgusting hauleur ; esteem have been so distinctly marked on the .conscious of their rank, as is natural and in countenances of the speakers, as to render it in. evitable; but they know how to descend with possible to doubt the worthiness and true respecgrace and dignised kindness.

tability of character in the object wbich had I cannot give a more apt, or a more illustrious lawakened them. example, than the Prince Czartoryski. His per. The person of the Count Zamoyski is tall and son is, perhaps, rather below the middle stature, erect. His coinplexion clear, but colourless; but erect and well proportioned; his counte- light hair; a long nose; eyes light and large, nance, open and sanguine, invites to friendly in- with a countenance singularly open and bene tercourse; his forehead clear, open, and for a volent a very good face. He has evidently the man who has passed the meridian of life, remark. || appearance and manners of a gentleman ; but, ably free from wrinkles; his nose is slightly aqui. what is far higher praise, his excellence of heart line; his eyes dark, bright, and playful, indi shines through all his conduct. I have never seen cative of a lively fancy-are well overshadowed a human being whose disposition is more essenwith eyebrows slightly arched, raised, and move- rially good and honourable. He delights to conable by the electric touches of thought; it is all template pictures of happiness and of perfection,

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If he has followed a character, even in a play, l, and of which the lower part is graced with beau. with interest and admiration, it painfully wounds tiful dark eye-brows, exhibiting the gently wavhis sensibili'y, to find that character deviate from ing line, expressive of taste and feeling. If I hodour, and thus mar the virtuous reveries his may be permited to notice any quality which fancy had been weaving. Nothing could give may be thought to dim the lustre of this assemhim a more deep regret than the thought that he blage of beautiesit is, that her lovely eyes are had injured a single human being. These ad not exactly in a line with each other; but the mirable qualities, I have before observed, are deviation is so trifling, as to be observed only in not likely to lie inert and useless.

certain positions of the face; nor am I sensible I have spoken thus particularly of these two that it detracts any thing from the general effecte illustrious men, because I happened to know It is as a spot upon the glorious face of the sun, them best; without intending the slightest dis which serves to augment by contrast his effulgent respect to many other noble Poles, whom I had | brightness. Her eye-lids, the edges finely curved, the honour of seeing. Of others, indeed, the and adorned with dark eye-lashes, open and lift characters I should be enabled to give would be themselves with peculiar beauty; and when her so general, as to be little flattering to theinselves, eyes, in soft and lambent lustre, are cast heavenand as little amusing to my readers.

ward, her soul rapt in pleasing contemplation, My fair country-women will now be curious she then displays one of her most beantiful and to know something about the ladies of Poland, interesting attitudes. In this allitude she has sat and I proceed 10 gratify their curiosity. Whether for her picture. I shall flatter their vanily quite so much as they But the powerful inagic of this lady's, beauty could wish, I shall leave themselves to deter. I proceeds from that sensibility which . pervades mine. I must assure them, at the outset, that I and animates her lovely form. It is this which have high praises to bestow on foreigners; yet, || gives a natural ease, an inimitable grace, 20 all on striking an equitable balance, I am free her inovements, which art alone can never beto acknowledge that the advantage is still their | stow: It is this which tunes her voice to soft,

melodious accents which inspires her with In point of stature and general appearance, 1 | elevated sentiment, and the touch of symhave scarcely any remark to make which could pathy. discriminate the Polish ladies from the English. | When her soul is up--when her feelings are Their complexions are fair and clear, perhaps awake, and in search of objects to keep them in more generally colourless than those of English play, she will often go to her instrument; and ladies. Rouge is almost universal, except among the obedient strings, responsive to the electric young girls. The quantity, as it may seein, is in kiss, will proudly rise in full and warbled borsome sort of proportion to the rank of the lady, mony, or gently sink in dying sounds, which melt and certainly increases with the age: for a'wo- || and pierce the soul. man advanced in years is rouged even to the eyes. But her qualifications end not with the ordiTheir teeth are commonly good: hair and eyes || nary female accomplishments. She has a high generally light, though with many exceptions. relish for the beauties of poetry, and a delicate Their cast of features is extremely various; and taste in the productions of fine literature in ge. I should be quite at a loss to select any which neral. Of this I had once a striking proof. She should be nationally characteristic. I shall there had been reading on a certain day in one of the fore content myself with giving two or three ex- || | voluines of La Harpe; and had been both in. amples; premising, however, a hint to English || formed and delighted. On joining the companiy ladies, not to be too much in a hurry with their ) in the saloon, her countenance was fushed with general conclusions respecting all Polish ladies, sentiment and interest, and she expressed her grounded on these select particulars.

grateful acknowledgments to the writer who had THE COUNTESA ZAMOYSKI.-This lady is tall|| given her pleasure so refined and exquisite. Such and slender, with an elegance of form, which the men (said she) I would load with honours while loveliest of the graces inight behold with envy. alive, and when dead, would erect statues to She is of that class of beauty, which in common I their memories. In such a soul, the enthulanguage we call dark, as she has dark hair and || siast poet would wish to establish his splendid dark eyes; yet her complexion is beautifully fair empire. and clear; her nose and chin feminine, well and || ! But I shall be reminded, I am afraid, that I am delicately shaped, her teeth white and regular; || not now describing the heroine of a romance. I her mouth well formed, with sweetly pouring | admit the justness of the imagined rebuke. But lips. She has that part of beauty in which ladies surely, it were an injury and a symptoms of a moare most deficienta fine, smooth, and open rose and gloomy temper, to speak of beaury and forebead, which loses nothing on being shown, ly excellence so consummate, in the dry and home

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