THADDEUS OF WARSAW,

CHAPTER I.

THE large and magnificent palace of Vallanow, which stands on the northern banks of the Vistula, was the favourite residence of John Sobieski, king of Poland. That monarch, after having delivered his country from innumerable enemies, rescued Vienna, and subdued the Turks, used to retire to this place at certain seasons, and dispense those effects of his luminous and benevolent mind, which rendered his name great and his people happy.

When Charles the twelfth of Sweden visited the tomb of Sobieski, at Moscow, he exclaimed, "What a pity so great a man should ever die !" Ninety years after his death, the spirit of this great man appeared to revive in the person of his descendant, Constantine Count Sobieski, who in a comparatively private station, as a palatine of Masovia,and the friend, rather than the lord,of his vassals, evinced by his actions, that he was the inheritor of his forefather's virtue, as well as of his blood.

He was the first Polish noblemen, who granted freedom to his peasants. He threw down their mud hovels, and built comfortable villages. He furnished them with seed, cattle, and implements of husbandry; then calling thom all together, he laid before them the deed of their enfranchisement. Before he signed it, he expressed his fears to some of their old men, of the probability that they might abuse this new liberty, and become licentious. "No," returned a grey-headed pea ant, "when we held a firm grasp of no other property nan the staffs which

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we have in our hands, we were destitute of all motive for a consistent conduct; and not having any thing to lose, acted on all occasions in an intemperate manner; but now that our houses and lands, and our cattle, are absolutely our own, the fear of forfeiting them, will be a constant restraint upon our actions."

The good sense and truth of this answer were manifested in the event. On their emancipation, they become so cheerful in their circumstances, and so correct in their behaviour, that the example of the Palatine was shortly followed by Zamoiski the great chancellor; prince Stanislaus, the king's nephew; and several of the principal nobility.

Thus, within the bosom of his family, did this illustrious man educate Thaddeus, the only male heir of his name, to the exercise of every peaceful virtue, until the beginning of the year 1792, when war began to threaten the tranquility of a country which smiled with content and gratitude.

On the evening of an anniversary of the birth day of his grandson, the palatine rode abroad with Zamoiski, and several others of a party, which had been celebrating the festival with its presence, The Countess and Thaddeus were left alone in the saloon. She sighed as she gazed on her son, who stood at some distance, fitting to his youthful thigh a variety of sabres, which his servant a little time before had laid upon the table. She observed with anxiety, the eagerness of his motion, his flushed cheek, and the ardor that was flashing from his eyes.

"Thaddeus," said she," lay down that sword; I wish to speak with you." Thaddeus looked gaily up. My Thaddeus," cried his mother, and the tears started to her eyes. The blush of enthusiasm faded from his face; ho threw the sabre from him, and drew near the Countess. Why, my dear mother do you distress yourself? when I am in battle, shall I not experience my grandfather's care; and be as much under the protection of God as at this moment ?"

"Yes, my child," answered she, wiping her wet cheek, "God will protect you. He is the protector of the orphan d you are fatherless." The Countess paused and the

heart of Thaddeus drooped. "Here, my son," said she, giving him a sealed packet, "take this: it will reveal to you who was your father. It is necessary that you should know the truth, and all the goodness of your grandfather." Thaddeus received it and stood silent with surprise. "Read it, my love," continued she, "but go to your own apartment: there you will be more retired.'

Bewildered by the manner of the Countess, Thaddeus instantly obeyed. Shutting himself within his study, he impatiently opened the papers; and soon found his whole attention absorbed in the following recital:

"You are now, my Thaddeus, at the early age of eighteen, going to engage against the enemies of your country. Ere I resign my greatest comfort to the casualties of war; ere I part with you, perhaps for ever, I would inform you who your father really was; that father, whose existence you have hardly known, and whose name you have never heard. You consider yourself an orphan; your mother a widow; but, alas, I have now to tell you, that you are fatherless by the cruelty of man, not by the dispensation of heaven.

"Twenty years ago I accompanied my father in a tour through Germany into Italy. Grief for the death of my mother, had impaired his health, and the physicians ordered him to reside in a warmer climate: accordingly we fixed ourselves near the Arno. During several visits to Florence, my father met, in that city,with a young Englishman of the name of Sackville. These frequent meetings opened into intimacy and he was invited to our house.

"Mr. Sackville was not only the handsomest man that I had ever beheld, but he seemed the most elegant in manners, the most noble in principle, and the most frank of heart. He was the first man for whose society I had found so lively a preference. I used to smile at this delight which I felt, or sometimes weep, for the emotions that agitated me were undefinable; but they were enchanting, and unheedingly I gave them indulgence. The hours of reciprocal sentiments and feelings which we passed together the kind beaming of his looks, the thousand sighs that he breathed, the half-uttered sentences, all conspired to le me into confidence.

"Thus were eight months spent. For the last three, dotibts and anguish had usurped the fairy reveries of an infant tenderness. An averted glance, a cold answer, or careless demeanor, would now plunge me into all the hor rors of distrust. The attention of Mr. Sackville died away. From being the constant object of his search, he now sedulously sought to avoid me. When my father with. drew to his closet he would take his leave, and allow me to walk alone. Solitary and wretched were my rambles. Immured as I had been within the palace of Villanow, watching the declining health of my mother, I had learnt nothing of the real world; the little that I knew of society, being drawn from books, uncorrected by experience, taught me to believe a perfection in man, which, to my affiction, I have since found to be a poet's dream. When I came to Italy, I still continued averse to public company. In this seclusion, the presence of Sackville being almost my only pleasure, entirely chased from my mind its usual reserve,and gradually and surely, won upon the awakened affections of my heart. Artless and unwarned, I knew not the nature of the feelings I cherished, until they had gained an ascendency that menaced my life.

"On the evening of one of those days in which I had not seen this too dearly beloved friend, I strolled out, and hardly conscious of my actions, threw myself along the summit of a flight of steps that led down to the Arno. My head rested against the base of a statute, which because of its fancied resemblance to me, Sackville had presented to iny father. Every recollected kindness of his, now gave me additional torment; and clinging to its pedestal, as to the altar of my adoration, in the bitterness of disappointment, I addressed myself to the insensible stone;

were I as pale as thou art, and this breast as cold and still, would Sackville, when he looked on me, give ore sigh to the creature he has destroyed?" My sobs followed this adjuration, and the next moment, I felt myself er circled in his arms. I struggled,and almost fainting, beg ged to be released. He did release me, and falling on h's knees implored my pardon for the misery I had endured. "Now Therese," cried he, "all is as it ought to be! you are my only hope. Consent to be mine else I shall be driv