franchisement: but, before he signed it, he expressed a fear that they would abuse this liberty, of which they had not had experience, and become licentious.

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No," returned a venerable peasant; "when we possessed no other property than the staffs which we hold in our hands, we were destitute of all worldly motive for discreet conduct: not having any thing to lose, we acted on too many occasions in an intemperate manner. But now

that the fruits of our labours are absolutely our own, the care of protecting them will be sufficient restraint upon

our actions."

The good sense and truth of this answer were manifested in the event. On the emancipation of these people, they became so prosperous in business, and correct in behaviour, that the example of the palatine was speedily followed by several of the principal nobility. The king's reforming spirit moved in unison with that of Sobieski; and a constitution was given to Poland, to place her in the first rank of free nations.

Encircled by his happy tenantry, and within the bosom of his family, this illustrious man educated Thaddeus, the only male heir of his name, to the exercise of all the virtues which ennoble and endear the possessor.

But this reign of public and domestic peace was not to continue. A formidable, and apparently friendly, state envied the effects of a patriotism it would not imitate; and in the beginning of the year 1792, regardless of existing treaties, broke in upon the unguarded frontiers of Poland; threatening, with all the horrors of a merciless war, the properties, lives, and liberty of the people.

The family of Sobieski had ever been foremost in the ranks of their country; and at the present crisis, its venerable head did not hang behind the youngest warrior in preparations for the field.

On the evening of an anniversary of the birth-day of his grandson, the palatine rode abroad with a party of friends who had been celebrating the festival with their presence. The countess his daughter, 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, and the ardour that was flashing from his eyes.

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"Thaddeus," said she, " lay down that sword; I wish to speak with you." Thaddeus looked gaily up. My dear Thaddeus!" cried his mother, and tears started to her eyes. The blush of enthusiasm faded from his face; he 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 have my grandfather near me; and be as much under the protection of God as at this moment?"

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"Yes, my child," answered she, "God will protect you. He is the protector of the orphan, and you are fatherless." The countess paused-" Here, my son," said she, giving him a sealed packet, "take this; it will reveal to you the history of your birth, and the name of 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 apartments: here you may be interrupted."

Bewildered by the manner of the countess, Thaddeus, without answering, instantly obeyed. Shutting himself within his study, he impatiently opened the papers; and soon found his whole attention absorbed in the following recital:

"To my dear Son, Thaddeus Constantine Sobieski.

“You are now, my Thaddeus! at the early age of nineteen, going to engage 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 believe yourself an orphan; your mother a widow: but, alas! I have now to tell you, that you were made 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 I had ever beheld, but the most accomplished; and his heart seemed the seat of every graceful feeling. He was the first man for whose society I felt a lively preference. I used to smile at this strange delight, or sometimes weep; for the emotions which agitated me were undefinable: but they were enchanting; and unheedingly I gave them indulgence. The hours which we passed together in the interchange of reciprocal sentiments; the kind beaming of his looks; the thousand sighs that he breathed; the halfuttered sentences; all conspired to rob me of myself.

"Eight months were spent in these delusions. - During the last three, doubts and anguish displaced the blissful reveries of an infant tenderness. The attentions of Mr. Sackville died away. From being the object of his constant search, he now sedulously sought to avoid me. When my father withdrew to his closet, he would take his leave, and allow me to walk alone. Solitary and wretched were my rambles. I had full leisure to compare my then disturbed state of mind with the comparative peace I had enjoyed in my own country. Immured within the palace of Villanow, watching the declining health of my mother, I knew nothing of the real world; the little I had learned of society being drawn from books, and uncorrected by experience, I was taught to believe a perfection in man, which, to my affliction, I since found to be but a poet's dream. When I came to Italy, I continued averse to public company. In such seclusion, the presence of Sackville, being almost my only pleasure, 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 passion which I cherished, until it had gained an ascendancy 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 statue, which, because of its resemblance to me, Sackville had presented to my father. Every recollected kindness of his now gave me additional torment; and, clinging to the pedestal, as to the altar of my adoration, in the bitterness of disappointment, I addressed the insensible stone; 'O! were I pale as thou art, and this breast as cold and still, would Sackville, when he looked on me, give one sigh to the creature he had destroyed?' My sobs followed this adjuration, and the next moment I felt myself encircled in his arms. I struggled, and, almost fainting, begged to be released. He did release me, and, falling on his knees, implored my pardon for the misery which I had endured. Now, Therese,' cried he, all is as it ought to be! you are my only hope. Consent to be mine, or the world has no hold on me!' His voice was hurried and incoherent. - Raising my eyes to his, I beheld them wild and bloodshot. Terrified at his look, and overcome by my own emotions, my head sunk on the marble. With increased violence, he exclaimed, "Have I deceived myself here too? Therese, did you not prefer me ? Did you not love me?-Speak now, I conjure you, by your own happiness and mine! Do you reject me?' He clenched my hands with a force that made me tremble, and I hardly articulated, I will be yours.' At these words he hurried me down a dark vista, which led out of the gardens to the open country. A carriage stood at the gate. I fearfully asked what he intended. • You have given yourself to me,' cried he; and by that vow, written in Heaven, no power shall separate us until you are mine beyond the reach of man!' Unnerved in body, and weak in mind, I yielded to his impetuosity; and, suffering him to lift me into the chariot, was carried to the door of the nearest monastery, where in a few minutes we were married,

"I am thus particular in the relation of every incident, in the hope that you, my dear son, will see some excuse for my great imprudence,—in the circumstances of my youth, and in the influence which a man who seemed all excellence had gained over my heart. However, my fault went not long unpunished.

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"The ceremony passed, my husband conducted me in silence back to the carriage. My full bosom discharged itself in abundance of tears, while Sackville sat by me, unmoved and mute. Two or three times I raised my eyes, in hopes of discerning in his some consolation for my hasty compliance. But no; his gaze, vacant and glaring, was fixed on the window; and his brow scowled, as if he had been forced into an alliance with one he hated, rather than had just made a voluntary engagement with the woman he loved. My soul shuddered at this commencement of a contract which I had dared to make unsanctioned by my father's consent. At length my sighs seemed to startle my husband; and, turning suddenly round, Therese,' cried he, this marriage must not be told to the palatine.'— I demanded a reason for so unexpected a prohibition. Because I have been precipitate. It would ruin me with my family. Wait, only for one month; and then I will publicly acknowledge you.' The agitation of his features, the sternness of his voice, and the feverish burning of his hand, which held mine, alarmed me. Trembling from head to foot, I answered, Sackville! I have already erred enough in consenting to this stolen marriage. I will not transgress further, by concealing it. I will instantly throw myself at my father's feet, and confess all.' His countenance darkened. 'Therese,' said he, "I am your husband. You have sworn to obey me, and I command your silence. Till I allow you, divulge this marriage at your peril.' This last cruel sentence, and the more cruel look that accompanied it, pierced me to the heart, and I fell senseless on the seat.

“ When I recovered, I found myself at the foot of that statue beneath which my unfortunate destiny had been fixed. My husband was leaning over me. He raised me with tenderness from the ground; and conjured me, in the mildest accents, to be comforted; to pardon the severity of`