ing drops to the eyes of "Thaddeus of Warsaw," whence they gush in rills,—like those of the Prisoner of Chillon's brother. Thaddeus is of such exalted virtue that strangers in London address him as "excellent young gentleman," and his friends speak of him as "incomparable young man." He rescues children from horses' hoofs and from burning buildings. He nurses them through small-pox, and leaves their bedsides in the most casual manner, to mingle in crowds and go to the play. He saves women from insult on the streets. He is kind even to "that poor slandered and abused animal, the cat,"—which is certainly to his credit. Wrapped in a sable cloak, wearing "hearse-like plumes" on his hat, a star upon his breast, and a sabre by his side, he moves with Hamlet's melancholy grace through the five hundred pages of the story. "His unrestrained and elegant conversation acquired new pathos from the anguish that was driven back to his heart: like the beds of rivers which infuse their own nature with the current, his hidden grief imparted an indescribable interest and charm to all his sentiments and actions."
