up to the gate of the palace. We entered it, and were presently
surrounded by a train of attendants in such sumptuous liveries, than
I found myself all at once carried back into the fifteenth century,
and might have fancied myself within the courtly halls of our Tudors
and Plantagenets. You can better conceive that I can paint the scene
which took place between the palatine, the countess, and her son. I
can only repeat, that from that hour I have known no want of
happiness but what arises from regret that my dear family are not
partakers with me.

"You know that this stupendous building was the favorite residence of
John Sobieski, and that he erected it as a resting-place from the
labors of his long and glorious reign. I cannot move without meeting
some vestige of that truly great monarch. I sleep in his bed chamber:
there hangs his portrait, dressed in the robes of sovereignty; here
are suspended the arms with which he saved the very kingdoms which
have now met together to destroy his country. On one side is his
library; on the other, the little chapel in which he used to pay his
morning and evening devotions. Wherever I look, my eye finds some
object to excite my reflections and emulation. The noble dead seem to
address me from their graves; and I blush at the inglorious life I
might have pursued had I never visited this house and its
inhabitants. Yet, my dearest mother, I do not mean to insinuate that
my honored father and brave ancestors have not set me examples as
bright as man need follow. But human nature is capricious; we are not
so easily stimulated by what is always in our view as with sights
which, rising up when we are removed from our customary associations,
surprise and captivate our attention. Villanow has only awakened me
to the lesson which I conned over in drowsy carelessness at home.
Thaddeus Sobieski is hardly one year my senior; but, good heaven!