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it is but just that I should acquit myself of this debt, but let us first go into the saloon and be alone there for a few minutes." They accordingly went.

"You have concluded the series of pictures," said the veteran, "with that in which the monarch confers on me the order of knighthood,|| and the marshal's truncheon. This is a great violation of historical truth, for you have here combined in one moment events that were separated by an interval of fifteen years, and have blended the actions of two different princes performed under totally different circumstances. That, however, is not of much consequence.— But from the place which that picture occupies, would not every spectator suppose that the rank of Field-marshal had been conferred on me as a reward for some of the actions commemorated here, or for the whole of them together?"

Young Count. Most certainly.

Old Count. And yet nothing can be more erroneous; for the achievement, which obtained so high a reward, is totally omitted in this series. Young Count. How so, father? Is it possible that from forgetfulness

We are.

Old Count. Not from forgetfulness, but from ignorance, which I excuse as readily as your present surprize. You were very young when I obtained this promotion. I never mentioned the circumstance either to you or to any other person, and I must first look round to see that we are quite alone. Young Count. Old Count. Let us then go through this series of actions, as well as the rewards conferred for them! This lame arm is a consequence of that battle, in which with such boldness and success I threw our standard among the hostile squadrons. The left wing was already flying, and the right began to flinch. The latter now pressed onward, and the former rallied. I was then only major, and a major I remained. My general, one of the first that took to his heels in order to preserve his precious life, received a considerable gratuity as a recompence for his conduct on that arduous day. In that battle when I fell wounded from my horse, I was taken prisoner; my wound was badly healed, I was forgotten in the exchange, and was at length ransomed from my own private property. Young Count. How?

the blood of several of my own soldiers, to restrain their disposition for murdering, plundering and burning. On my return, the Prince thanked me before the whole court, and the same day appointed the primo-minister's son, a boy of seventeen, to the post of governor of the newly con. quered place. He most graciously offered ine the next command under this stripling, and seemed astonished when I refused it. It was not without the greatest difficulty that I escaped being exiled or confined for life in a fortification, after that peace, which, notwithstanding my unlimited powers, I might perhaps have been in too great a hurry to conclude; for I forgot to insist on the cession of a tract containing more than twelve hundred acres, merely from the silly apprehension lest the war should continue another year, and cost us some millions more of money, and some thousands of human lives.

Young Count. By G-d, father, that was

scandalous.

Old Count. Let me finish! The best is yet to come. You must have seen the snuff-box, which the rescue of my sovereign while hunting procured me. It was certainly rather rash of him to take such a diversion in an enemy's country, and that too at a time when every peasant might be considered as a foe or a spy. I had, however, my spies, and kept a body of men on whom I could depend in readiness. The enemy were obliged to relinquish their booty, and I was presented with that box, of the value of perhaps one hundred and fifty dollars, as an indemnification for the loss of a fine horse, worth at least a thousand. The chamberlain by the Prince's side, who manfully clapped his hand to his cutlass, but unfortunately never drew it, was appointed marshal of the court for his faithful services. It was supposed some tokens of discontent were perceived in me, and on that account I was likewise presented with this order, which put me to a great expence without producing the smallest advantage. You look grave, my son, more so than I wished. What will you do, when I tell you, that for fifteen years I remained just what I was?

Young Count. Fifteen years; but, perhaps, purposely, father; perhaps from self-denial?

Old Count. It would certainly sound well in me to assume the tone of a philosopher, practising 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 my forehead reminds me but too well, without any picture, of that fortress, which cost us almost a whole campaign, and which, at last, I may say it without vanity, was taken and preserved in consequence of my dispositions alone. I repeat, preserved, for I was obliged to dye my sword in

truth may not sound so agreeably. It was not from my own fault (for love to my family made me eagerly desirous of promotion) that I remained unrewarded, but because there were always courtiers who, if not more worthy, were at least more fortunate; because the Prince whose life, liberty, and glory I had more than once preserved,

at length died, and his successor considered services |

previously rendered to the state, as already recom. penced Weary of hollow promises, of tedious expectation and disappointed hope, I was on the point of relinquishing the matter entirely and of retiring into the obscurity of a country life, when fortune afforded me an opportunity for an achievement, which immediately procured me promotion and realized all my wishes.

Young Count. And what was that achievement? I entreat you, my excellent father, to speak without reserve! What was it?

Old Count. (Smiling), O it might easily be painted too. A river of considerable breadth, some ladies shrieking and weeping on the bank, myself on horseback almost in the middle of the stream, and in my hands a dripping, half-drowned lap-dog. Not too many objects; are they, think you?

Young Count. How, father; are you serious? Can the saving of a lap-dog-.

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She was indeed beautiful as the goddess of love, but with respect to the qualities of the heart and understanding, nature had been very sparing. She returned my salutation with an air of great negligence, and drove a few hundred paces farther to the Dutch farm-house, which, as you know, stands close to the river, where her carriage stopped. In order to avoid passing by them again, I was just going to turn my horse into a bridle-road to the left, when a most lamentable outcry assailed my ear. It proceeded from those ladies; I saw them running to and fro in great trepidation; and apprehensive lest some accident. might have happened, I rode up to the spot, from a natural movement, as fast as I could. The mistress of his excellency, as soon as she perceived me coming, ran to meet me, with a countenance indicative of the utmost distress. "O, General!" cried she, long before I reached the spot, "help us I entreat you! My little favouriteyonder he is in the water; he cannot get out, we cannot go after him; he will be lost!"

Old Count. Yes, the saving of a lap-dog was the important achievement which procured me a Without farther reflection, or transferring this richer 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 F—. 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. to be persuaded, alighted and offered her my to be sure, well enough disposed to me; I knew, arm. "General," whispered she, taking hold of however, that he expected flattery from every 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 truth, 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

He was,

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

Next morning, however, the minister drew me to the corner of a window in the Prince's antichamber, and assured me, that the sovereign had lately mentioned me several times in the handsomest terms; that he had confirmed him in these favourable sentiments, and had the strongest hope that he should soon be able to congratulate me on the attainment of my wishes. He was right; for the same month I was promoted to the rank which I now hold. Had not my con

by many preceding actions, be assured that I should have refused it; but a survey of my past life, and a look at you, caused me to accept the proffered promotion. It is indeed possible that I may be mistaken in my conjectures; the whole may have been a mere coincidence of the circumstances. But yet, my son, I cannot help thinking that the poor dog deserved a place, and I shall at least wish that you may once have occasion to relate a similar story to your son.

A DESCRIPTION OF POLAND,

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

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I AM in doubt, whether I should call the face expressive of 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 manners are condescending, kind, and famibut I think the idea will be more fairly gene- 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, both of books and of men, he can plexions are fair, often colourless, and generally adapt himself with facility to all persons and chawith far less colour than the English. The eyes racters. Yet he has more real dignity than is and hair are usually light, though there are many often seen even in persons of the first rank. 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.

There are no traces remaining of that bold and daring spirit, which so peculiarly characterised the rugged virtues of their Sarmatian ancestors. I by no means intend to say, that they are deficient in the ordinary and gentlemanly courage; but we no where discover those symptoms of strong thought which impels to intelligent activity and enterprize.

Their manners are singularly polite, open, and affable-no insolent pride, no disgusting hauteur; conscious of their rank, as is natural and inevitable; but they know how to descend with grace and dignified kindness.

The more intimately he is known, the more sin cerely is he loved, the more certainly admired — But the quality which imparts the great charm to his manners and conversation is, the real and manifest benignity of heart, which flows in every word, and prompts to every action. I have often heard him spoken of by different people, on occasions, and in situations, which totally precluded all sentiments of flattery or views of interest; and the genuine expressions of affection and esteem have been so distinctly marked on the countenances of the speakers, as to render it im possible to doubt the worthiness and true respectability of character in the object which had awakened them.

The person of the Count Zamoyski is tall and erect. His complexion clear, but colourless;

I cannot give a more apt, or a more illustrious example, than the Prince Czartoryski. His person is, perhaps, rather below the middle stature, 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 benetercourse; 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 aquiline; his eyes-dark, bright, and playful, indi cative of a lively fancy-are well overshadowed with eyebrows slightly arched, raised, and moveable by the electric touches of thought; it is al

what is far higher praise, his excellence of heart shines through all his conduct. I have never seen a human being whose disposition is more essentially good and honourable. He delights to con template pictures of happiness and of perfection.

If he has followed a character, even in a play, with interest and admiration, it painfully wounds his sensibility, to find that character deviate from honour, and thus mar the virtuous reveries his fancy had been weaving. Nothing could give him a more deep regret than the thought that he had injured a single human being. These admirable qualities, I have before observed, are not likely to lie inert and useless.

I have spoken thus particularly of these two illustrious men, because 1 happened to know them best; without intending the slightest disrespect to many other noble Poles, whom I had the honour of seeing. Of others, indeed, the characters I should be enabled to give would be so general, as to be little flattering to themselves, and as little amusing to my readers.

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and of which the lower part is graced with beau tiful dark eye-brows, exhibiting the gently waving line, expressive of taste and feeling. If I may be permitted to notice any quality which may be thought to dim the lustre of this assemblage of beauties-it is, that her lovely eyes are not exactly in a line with each other; but the deviation is so trifling, as to be observed only in certain positions of the face; nor am I sensible that it detracts any thing from the general effect. It is as a spot upon the glorious face of the sun, which serves to augment by contrast his effulgent brightness. Her eye-lids, the edges finely curved, and adorned with dark eye-lashes, open and lift themselves with peculiar beauty; and when her eyes, in soft and lambeat lustre, are cast heavenward, her soul rapt in pleasing contemplation, she then displays one of her most beautiful and interesting attitudes. In this attitude she has sat for her picture.

But the powerful magic of this lady's beauty proceeds from that sensibility which pervades and animates her lovely form. It is this which gives a natural ease, an inimitable grace, to all her movements, which art alone can never bestow It is this which tunes her voice to soft, melodious accents-which inspires her with

When her soul is up-when her feelings are awake, and in search of objects to keep them in play, she will often go to her instrument; and the obedient strings, responsive to the electric kiss, will proudly rise in full and warbled harmony, or gently sink in dying sounds, which melt and pierce the soul.

In point of stature and general appearance, I elevated sentiment, and the touch of symhave scarcely any remark to make which could||pathy. discriminate the Polish ladies from the English. Their complexions are fair and clear, perhaps more generally colourless than those of English ladies. Rouge is almost universal, except among young girls. The quantity, as it may seem, is in some sort of proportion to the rank of the lady, and certainly increases with the age: for a woman advanced in years is rouged even to the eyes. Their teeth are commonly good hair and eyes generally light, though with many exceptions. || Their cast of features is extremely various; and I should be quite at a loss to select any which should be nationally characteristic. I shall there. fore content myself with giving two or three examples; premising, however, a hint to English ladies, not to be too much in a hurry with their general conclusions respecting all Polish ladies,|| grounded on these select particulars.

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THE COUNTESS ZAMOYSKI-This lady is tall and slender, with an elegance of form, which the loveliest of the graces might behold with envy. She is of that class of beauty, which in common language we call dark, as she has dark hair and dark eyes; yet her complexion is beautifully fair and clear; her nose and chin feminine, well and delicately shaped; her teeth white and regular; her mouth well formed, with sweetly pouring || lips. She has that part of beauty in which ladies are most deficienta fine, smooth, and open forehead, which loses nothing on being shown,

But her qualifications end not with the ordinary female accomplishments. She has a high relish for the beauties of poetry, and a delicate taste in the productions of fine literature in ge neral. Of this I had once a striking proof. She had been reading on a certain day in one of the volumes of La Harpe; and had been both informed and delighted. On joining the company in the saloon, her countenance was Hushed with sentiment and interest, and she expressed her grateful acknowledgments to the writer who had given her pleasure so refined and exquisite. Such men (said she) I would load with honours while alive, and when dead, would erect statues to their memories. In such a soul, the enthusiast poet would wish to establish his splendid empire.

But I shall be reminded, I am afraid, that I am not now describing the heroine of a romance. I admit the justness of the imagined rebuke But surely, it were an injury and a symptom of a morose and gloomy temper, to speak of beauty and excellence so consummate, in the dry and home

spun terms of vulgar admiration.

Why will not ladies be more extensively convinced, that it is by qualifications like these alone, by which they can hope to enchain the soul? Beauty is not beauty without sentiment, without intelligence, without expression. We may admire the delicacy of contour in a statue. But lines straight or waving, or curved or angular, constitute not a human being. We cannot sympathize with a statue; it is intelligent expression-the vital glow of feeling, whose pervasive radiance warms and illumines the magic circle, and weaves the deep spells of beauty's soft dominion. The Count Zamoyski is worthy of a spouse so amiable; and though they are both still young, five boys and a girl attest the happiness of their conjugal

union.

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I must not forget to speak the praises of this distinguished beauty. She is about the middle stature, her person well-formed, and rather full; but it is the plenitude of health and joyance; there is no approach to lustiness. She has a complexion beautifully fair; eyes and hair light, though not so light as to betray any sort of weakness. Her features are perfectly regular and beautiful; their expression sweet and naturala healthful and a joyous beauty, abundant of love's choicest blessings.

In speaking generally of the Polish ladies, in point of manners and disposition, they appear in a very amiable and estimable light. To say of ladies of rank, that they are polished and accomplished, is no distinctive praise, as those qualifications may be taken for granted. But it is to their distinguished honour, that their manners are condescending, kind, and affable; and that their pride and ideas of rank are almost uniformly subdued by their singular amiability.

And here I shall take the liberty to make one remark, which people may call morálizing, if they please; it is, that pride never takes deep root but in cold constitutions. The warm, the generous, are too much occupied with their own feelings, and their affection for others, to attend to suggestions exclusively selfish. I trust, that the quality I would wish to stigmatize will not be confounded with the pride of elevated thoughts a sense of personal dignity, and of station in society, justly entitled to be styled noble, and honourable to human character.

The tempers of the Polish ladies, though susceptible of great exhilaration, are gentle and affectionate-as if formed by nature

PRINCESS OF WIRTEMBERG-sister of the preceding, and consort of the brother of the Prince of Wirtemberg, married to our Princess Royal. She is separated, however, from her husband, on account of treatment, which has obtained and (as report says) has merited the epithet of brutal. It is no dispraise to this lady to say that she yields to her lovely sister in personal charms. In feminine accomplishments, she is nothing inferior. To her honour be it said, that no one more affectionately loves her sister, or is more forward in generous admiration of her. Yet her own person has striking and peculiar beauties. She has the divinest full dark eyes which ever adorned the countenance of woman, perfectly placed, and surrounded by those clear and delicate shadings, which indicate feeling and genius. Her forehead is clear and open, and her fine dark eyebrows are the seat of unwonted expression. The lower part of her face is less perfect, considered as belonging to a woman; but there is not a feature which impresses us as disagreeable. I shall present the completest idea of this lady's face, and bestow on it, at the same time, no ordinary praise, by observing, that it is a striking, though perhaps a softened resemblance, of that of Mrs. Siddons--a resemblance by which she is much flattered. The mental qualifications of this lady, in no wise disappoint the expectations The national dress of a Polish gentleman conwhich arise from the intelligence of her counte-sists of a vest or waistcoat with sleeves most comnance. If the conversation has happened to turn on the important topics of the affairs of kingdoma, I have been astonished at the soundness of her observations, and the confident clearness with which they were uttered. In speaking of the fate of Poland, I once heard her remark, with an air of reproachful emphasis, "If we had had a head in Poland, the country might yet have been saved!" Perhaps her highness was not far from the truth.

PRINCESS CONSTANTINE CZARTORISKA.At the risk of exciting the envy of the English fair,

Pour parler d'amour

Pendant tout le jour.

Frank and unreserved, they are always free to converse; yet unlike the sparkling vivacity of the French women, who rather storm than invite attention, their manners solicit regard by inobtrusive allurements-by attractions more secret, not less powerful.

monly of pink, yellow, or blue silk, though the colour may vary with the taste of the wearer. Over this is worn a loose tunic of cloth, velvet, or silk, according to persons and times, which reaches a little below the knees, and is confined about the waist by a sash of silk. The sleeves are full, and slashed towards the shoulder, both behind and before; and the open places are lined with silk the same colour with the vest. The breeches or rather trowsers, are on ordinary occasions of cloth; at other times of silk, likewise of the same colour; and their extremities on the legs are

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