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even a drink of water! Persecution, however, generally overdoes itself; and so it has been here. The thyme of truth has been bruised and trampled on, till it has acquired a growth so strong, that it can never now be era dicated. But our satisfaction would be greatly increased if we could be assured that all the risk of its growing wild, was passed over. We had a good omen in the visit paid them by their late lamented Archbishop, but, unless we have been deceived in the character of his successor, a scene so edifying is not likely soon to occur again.

"Two years and a half after this, (that is, after Dr. M'Hale's visit,) the settlement, instead of being deserted, instead of its buildings being left unfinished, or tenanted by the daws and Royston crows, throve so much, that its increasing population of adult children, absolutely required that the Protestant archbishop should, when holding confirmations through the rest of his diocese, come into Achill, which he accordingly had done, immediately previous to my arrival, and there he confirmed twenty-eight persons, nineteen of whom were the children of parents that had been Roman Catholics. The appearance of the Protestant archbishop was quite a contrast to that of the Roman.

"Dr. Trench, the brother and the uncle of an earl, appeared at Achill without either show or pretence. He came on a jaunting-car. He could not be distinguished from the two other clergymen who attended him, except by his age, and venerable, but humble demeanour. The people seemed astonished at his not, as his rival, "assuming the god, and shaking the spheres of Achill;" therefore, some, almost doubting the reality of the thing, asked, can this gentleman be an ARCHbishop?' but the doubt was soon removed all saw when they looked to the scriptural definition of bishop, that his calling was to bless and curse not; and so, that worthy man, after performing his episcopal functions with the simple dignity and decorum that belong to the Christian bishop, went away pleasing and pleased, and it was hard to tell whether the people were more satisfied with him, or he with the people."

We have stated our opinion, that the progress of truth and civilization has been, at least, embarrassed by the over-urgency of the missionaries with the people. Mr. Otway himself was bored with the disputatious zeal of his

guide. St. Paul, who had the gift of tongues, and of healing, could be "instant in season and out of season;" but we think a more conspicuous example of being instant out of season, could hardly be sought for, than the following. Mr. Baylee must have been very ignorant of human nature to suppose that the young man would receive his advances in presence of half-a-dozen strangers, otherwise than he did.

"Another fine healthy active young man met us, with his loy, or gowl-gob, on his shoulder; Mr. Baylee, as usual, sa-, luted him, and he replied right civilly [up to this adventure, they had met little else than scowls and curses.] He even stopped to speak to us, and inquired where we had been, and who the strangers were, pointing to us. Thus encouraged, Mr. Baylee ventured to say some words of a religious tendency, to which the other answered, that he was ready to wish us all well; that he was any thing but one that would abuse or injure a man for his religion, but he would wish to have his own religion let alone.

"Well, but suppose your own religion (says Mr. Baylee) is not the true one.'

"Oh! sir, God bless you; let me alone. How could the likes of me argue with a minister like you. I leave all that to the priest. Here I am, as you see, a loy-man, (pointing to the loy over his shoulder,) but no lawyer.' With this pun, quite satisfied, the young fellow sprang across the bog-drain that divided the road from the potato-garden, and he was off across the ridges in an instant.'


We must now bid adieu to Achill,

though we would willingly linger round its sea-cliffs they are the most stupendous perhaps, in the united kingdom-with our agreeable and intellishould quarrel with his theory of a subgent companion. But if we did so, we mersion of the mainland along our western coast; for the phenomena on which he builds his argument, are, we conceive, rather to be referred to the effects of protrusion, than of subsidence. We might also be disposed to break a lance with him on some of his antiquarian speculations, particularly on his reference of grouted stone-and-lime walls, to the Cyclopean period; so that, on the whole, we are better pleased that the necessity of a limited space compels us to part company with our jucundus comes in via, while we are stil! on the very best terms.

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WE present our readers with a second portion of the journal of Française Krasinska. They will perceive that she has not even yet entered upon the busier scenes of her eventful life; but she still compensates the absence of adventure by the same minute detail of the antique magnificences of her glorious country. Probably there is not in existence a record equally authentic with this rare fragment, of a period of manners which even the melancholy catastrophe that closed it for ever, is scarcely required to. recommend to the heart and imagination of every lover of the poetry of human life. When the sun of chivalry had set in every country of Europe, its long twilight lingered in Poland; and we seem to be wandering among the pages of Froissart, or dreaming of the courtly knights of the Field of Gold, when we are but listening to the girlish journalist of the Poland "of the last century." Our readers will remember that Française's manuscript left her sister Barbara about to enter upon the solemn ceremonial of a Polish wedding. The extracts of this number detail the golden glories of the scene; sometimes, indeed, with a minuteness, which, while it attests the genuineness of the original MS., we can scarcely expect any but our dear friends of the better sex to study with a true and earnest sympathy. But we dare not venture the profanity of curtailing one inch of blonde or one flower of embroidery; these revelations are not to be trifled with.

Wednesday, 25th January, 1759. The Starost arrived yesterday, and this morning Barbara found on her work-table two baskets of silver filigree, full of oranges, and all sorts of delicious bonbons which she distributed among the young ladies of the suite, and divided even among the servants. Our work prospers, and my dishabille is nearly finished. My mother has thought proper to present to Barbara a complete bed. We have large flocks of swans and geese, and belonging to the castle is a poor wretch who never does anything else than pick and prepare down. Poor Marina is so exceedingly stupid that they are unable to discover any other employment for which her intellect sufficed, and so she passes her whole life sorting, settling, and dividing down and feathers. Each of us has an equal share of those heaps. Barbara is to have two large down beds, eight large pillows of down, and two smaller of eider down. The down is to be put in cases of fine linen, manufactured at the castle-this is to be covered with amaranth satin, overlaid with fine Holland cambric, and trimmed with Brussels lace. The young ladies of the suite have been kept very hard at work indeed.

2nd of February, Saturday.

The Starost having remained eight days, has returned home, and when he comes again it will be to take dear VOL. XIV.

Barbara away with him. I cannot realize to my own mind satisfactorily the idea of Barbara-modest, timid, Barbara-going away alone - quite alone-with a stranger. It is inconceivable! I must see it happen-I must behold it with my own eyes, before I shall feel entirely sure of its possibility!

Her esteem and friendship for the Starost seem daily on the increase, though never, by any manner of chance, docs he approach her, or open his lips to her. He converses only with papa and mamma. All his care, all his petits soins, are for them. They tell me that this is the manner in which well-bred people always pay court to the lady they intend marrying, and that it is by pleasing her family they are to please her. I confess I should prefer that my lover formed his manner of courtship rather more upon the model of the swains described in our national ballads and romances; but, alas! I am only a silly maiden, utterly without experience or wisdom as yet!

Barbara has presented us with pretty new dresses, and has given a suit of bridal attire to all the young ladies belonging to our suite.

Almost all the persons invited to the wedding have sent answers in the affirmative; but the king and princes royal, to my infinite regret, content themselves with sending only their representatives. I am inclined to doubt that



the Palatine Princess Lubomirska can come, as she would find considerable difficulty in leaving Warsaw just now. She has, however, written a charming letter to Barbara, approving highly of her marriage, and this approbation delights my father.

My dishabille is nearly finished. I work at it continually, or as nearly so as I can, for my mother calls me away every moment. She is very good to me, and now constantly condescends to make use of me in forwarding her preparations. Until now my opinion of any thing was never asked. It was always Barbara, who, being eldest, was, of course, wisest, it was her birthright; but now I plainly perceive that my parents intend I should succeed to all her privileges. Twice already has the key been confided to me of the apartment where the sweetmeats are kept, (apteczka,) which I perceive gives me manifest importance in the eyes of all the young people of the suite. Really I think it well now to adopt a somewhat graver air, and to let people see that I am no longer a child. I do my utmost to resemble Barbara, that my parents may have no reason to regret her absence too much when the Starost shall have taken her away from us. I have, God knows, all the good-will in the world to be like her, but the powerah, when shall I be blest with that?

12th of February, Tuesday.

The Warsaw gazettes are full of the splendid ceremonials of the prince's investiture; nothing was ever so grand and delightful!

The guests begin to arrive, but in such vast numbers that, notwithstanding the great size of the castle, all, or even half the number, cannot be accommodated. But we are not to be conquered. We are making preparations at the farm, (officinach i na folwarka,) at the curate's house, and even in the cottages of the better class of peasants, for the reception of some of our friends. The cooks and confectioners have their hands full of employment. Our milliners have not an idle moment, and the trousseau is nearly completed. To-day an immense chest of plate, the beds and two chests filled with quilts, carpets, bed-linen, and many other matters, were despatched to Sulgostow. The bed-steads are of iron, beautifully wrought, the curtains of blue damask, and at each corner immense ostrich plumes of blue and white. How happy Barbara ought to be, and how

grateful to our kind parents for presents so generous and so valuable.

My father has inscribed in a large book the exact items of the trousseau, headed with these awful words :-"List of the wedding-equipment bestowed by me, Stanislaus of the Corvins Krasinski, and my wife, Angelica Humerika, upon our dearly beloved child Barbara, on the occasion of her marriage with Michel Swidzinski, his excellency,

Starost of Nadom. We implore for our dear daughter the benediction of heaven; and we bestow upon her our blessing with parental affection, in the name of Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Amen."

I really cannot be at the trouble of enumerating the articles, having scarcely a moment to make memorandums of matTime ters much more interesting. enough for such enumerations when I write of my own trousseau!


Thursday, 21st of February. Well, the period approaches very near! In five days more the wedding is to be. The Starost is come. Barbara trembled like an aspen leaf when the chamberlain announced him. Today we expect the Palatin, the Colonel, Abbé Vincent, and the Palatin and Palatine Granowska, sister to the Starost. Mademoiselle Lauckorowska, his other sister, cannot come, being just now with her husband in Podolia. Barbara regrets her absence exceedingly. She was most desirous to make her acquaintance, having heard her always very highly spoken of. Barbara is fortunate in the family into which she is marrying, as all the members of it are, without exception, pious, honourable, and highly esteemed. They are full of consideration towards her, and could not render her greater homage were she a queen.

The trousseau is finished, and what could not as yet be transported to Sulgostow is packed in coffers of which Mademoiselle Zawistowska has the keys. Barbara takes Mademoiselle with her to Sulgowstow, which is quite a consolation to her; to be thus accompanied, when leaving home, by a faithful and attached friend whom she has known from her youth, will, of course, She is to have two be desirable. chamberlains, two young girls who embroider well, and are to be employed in needle-work, a waiting-woman, and a young lady as companion. This latter

for I must be historically preciseis a person of very high family who

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Sunday, 24th of February.

Tomorrow our great event takes place! The crowd at the castle and the bustle of preparation is very great. The minister, Borch, representative of the king, has arrived; also Kochanowski, son to the castellan, and favourite of the Duke of Courland. The latter is a very accomplished gentleman, and of him and his patron, may in truth be said, "like master, like man," (taki gran, taki kram.) The invitations specified yesterday evening, and all were punctual to the time mentioned. Expresses having been forwarded to announce their near approach, the entrance of the company was magnificent. The dragoons ranged in lines presented arms to each gentleman; then followed a cannonade and running fire from the musquetry. Martial music was performed at intervals, and I have never seen or imagined any thing more animated or more imposing, than this mode of reception. But more particular homage was, of course, reserved for the representative of majesty. My father, with head uncovered, awaited him on the drawbridge, and he passed on his way to the castle through a long line of courtiers, guests, and the members of our suite, who on right and left honoured him with profound salutations and loud viva's.

To-day the marriage articles were signed in presence of a crowd of wit nesses. What is stipulated for on either side I have not troubled my head about, but this I do know, that the wedding gifts to the bride are beyond description splendid. The Starost has presented a necklace of three rows of Oriental pearls, and earrings en girandole of diamonds. The Palatin has given an immense cross, diadem, and aigrette of diamonds. The gallant and amiable Colonel has presented an exquisite French watch and a chain of fine gold, worked in Paris; and, to crown all, the Abbé has

made a gift, characteristic of his sacred calling, and a million times more precious to my sister than all the rest-a number of most holy relics.

Up to this time, Barbara has never worn any jewels except a little ring set with a picture of the Virgin Mary, which she will not part with, notwithstanding all those fine things.

I cease to write; for my dishabille is just brought in, having been ironed and stiffened quite ready to put on. The embroidery looks very well indeed, and is greatly admired by all the young ladies. I shall now take it to Mademoiselle Zawistowska, that she may to-morrow morning offer it to Barbara at her toilette. I know she will look divinely in it, for I have chosen it purposely to suit her complexion.

26th February, Shrove Tuesday.

Our little Matthew says that a hundred horses sent in pursuit of Barbara Krasinska would not now overtake her. She is THE STAROSTINE!


How shall I ever collect my senses sufficiently to describe all the amusements we have had! All that has happened! I am so dazzled and charmed that I know not where to begin. I must pause awhile to think, and then to my journal. Yesterday morning we went to the chapel at Sissow. Barbara and the Starost heard high mass, confessed, and partook of the sacrament. They knelt before the grand altar, and there received the benediction of the clergyman when mass was over. Barbara (and how I loved her for it) wore the dishabille I worked for her on this occasion, and it became her infinitely. But as the cold was excessive, she was obliged to wrap self in a pelisse, which being of white satin, lined with the fur of the white fox, was very heavy; and it rendered my work un peu chiffonné. Her coiffure was exquisite, and she wore a long blonde veil reaching to the ground. Ou returning to the castle, breakfast was served with great pomp and splendour. This over, Barbara went to her room; and my mother, followed by twelve young ladies, presided at her toilette. She put on a dress of white moirées satin, fully trimmed with Brabant blonde, embroidered in silver. This gown was made with a long train. At the side of her waist was fastened a bouquet of rosemary, and on her head was a small bunch of the same plants, fixed in with a golden agraffe, on which was engraved the day and

date of her marriage, and the congratulations she received thereupon. This dress became Barbara exceedingly, but would have been more splendid if she had worn her jewels, which my mother would not permit her doing, thinking, with many others, that being decked in them at her wedding would bring misfortune. It is a common proverb, she says, that "the girl who wears jewels at her marriage will weep bitter tears." Yesterday at all events Barbara did not need any additional incentive to tears; for continual weeping had made her pretty eyes all red and swelled. In the bouquet she wore at her waist my mother had placed a golden ducat, struck on the day of her birth, a morsel of bread, and a little salt. Those are symbols of the three great necessaries of life which it is prayed the married pair may never want: and to those is added another symbol, a little sugar, I suppose to sweeten the ills of matrimony. Twelve young ladies, including ourselves, preceded Barbara to the saloon. We wore very pretty white dresses, and flowers in our hair. The eldest of the train was not quite eighteen years old. The Colonel and Abbé attended us to near the door, where we were met by the Starost, at the head of a train of twelve gentlemen. Behind those was borne a large tray of flowers. Each bouquet was composed of rosemary, myrtle, and orange blossom, tied with white and silver ribbon. We were each provided with a golden pin with which to fasten it to our dress. My mother and the elderly ladies who were among our guests had carefully instructed us on the previous days in the proper mode of behaviour, and the etiquettes it became us to observe, so as to avoid giving offence to any. We often rehearsed those lessons, and were quite perfect in them until the time came for putting them in practice. I cannot think what sudden oblivion befel us; but we forgot all directly we entered the saloon. At first we distributed the bouquets with a very solemn and dignified air; but after a while we were seized with an irresistible inclination to smile, which presently increased to a titter, and finally broke into loud laughter. We were indeed very awkward and ill-behaved; and our guests were very kind to overlook our silli

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viour seemed ere long to have infected all the company. Married and elderly people, and many who had no right to bouquets, requested and obtained them from our willing hands. Presently the pyramid of flowers disappeared; and with it the golden pins, so recourse was obliged to be had to common ones; but they kindly assured us that anything presented by our hands could not come amiss. In fact the saloon became a scene of gaiety and flowers after a little space; but suddenly happening to look about for our little Matthew I perceived that he had retired into a corner, and was looking exceedingly sad. No Bouquet, no smiles! I approached him and demanded why, in this time of general rejoicing, he, for the first time in his life, looked dismal. He replied with a very sentimental tone and air, "All the young ladies have forgotten poor Matthew. That does not surprise or grieve me; but that you, Françoise; you whom I have nursed in my arms as baby; and so tenderly watched and loved since your infancy; that you should forget me does, I confess, cut me to the heart. Ah! I see plainly that I shall never be present at your marriage-to-night is ominous." I felt myself blush all over at those just reproaches. I flew to my room where the bouquets had been made up; but not a leaf remained. I returned in despair, and just as I re-entered the saloon a happy thought struck me. I divided my own bouquet, and handed to him the larger portion, pinning it in myself, and with my golden pin, too-contenting myself with an ordinary one. This conduct quite restored me to my former high place in his esteem. Françoise, said he, you are good as you are beautiful; and may my wishes for you be accomplished which will leave you nothing to desire in your fate. I am somewhat, you know, of a prophet, and I now see great things in store for you. I shall keep this bouquet in my possession until you are married. On the day of your marriage I will present it to you, if I should be at hand, which is not certain. But who will you be when I restore it to you?" I had no leisure to dream over Matthew's words at the time he spoke them; but I find one good effect from my journalizing, viz., that it reminds me of events and still more of words-important ones like these-that would else escape my memory totally, and be forgotten in the hurry of events, did not my self-im

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