class="c3">As she mourned her slaughtered brave,
Came and spake her aged slave,
Came, and spake with solemn brow:
'Missis, we is even, now.

'I had ten, and you had one;
Now we're even—all are gone:
Not one left to bury either—
Slave and mistress mourn together.

'Every one of mine you sold—
Now your own lies stark and cold:
To the just Avenger bow—
Missis! I forgive you now.'

Thus she spoke, that sable mother;
Shuddering, quailed and crouched the other.
Yea! although it tarry long,
Payment shall be made for wrong!

DIARY OF FRANCES KRASINSKA;

OR, LIFE IN POLAND DURING THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY.

Friday, January 3d.

My patience, or rather my impatience, has not been exposed to any very severe trial: I have seen the prince royal twice. He recognized me; how childish I was to doubt it? Why should I think him less skilful than myself; and under what dress could I mistake him?

On New Year's day, just as I was writing in my journal, the palatine came into my room, and said: 'Fanny, you have surpassed my expectations; you have been perfect in everything; your dress, and still more your manners, at the ball, have charmed every one; you have pleased universally, and even persons of the highest rank. I have just returned from court, where, with the senators and ministers, we presented our homage to his royal majesty: his royal highness the Duke of Courland took me aside to tell me that he had never seen anything comparable to you. 'Were it not for the court etiquette,' added he, 'which forces me to pass the first day of the year with the king my father, I should go in person to present my congratulations to Mademoiselle Frances Krasinska.'

When I heard these words spoken by the prince palatine, I thought my heart would burst within my bosom. The prince was kind enough to seem as if he had not noticed my confusion, and left me alone with my joy, my delirium, my wild fancies.... I was not then mistaken: the prince royal will come to see me. Yes; the prince palatine told me so; he has never seen anything comparable to me. This phrase haunts my memory like a delicious strain of melody.

Dinner was soon after announced. I was gay—out of myself; the princess scolded me. After dinner we went out to make visits, and found no one at home: everybody was out, offering the congratulations proper to the season. Friends and acquaintances met in the street, and all said to one another: 'I was just going,' or 'I have just been to see you.' The carriages crossed and jostled one another in the streets, and a halt was ordered whenever it was possible to recognize friends amid the crowd, when cards were reciprocally exchanged.

When the night came, the footmen lighted the carriage lamps, and boys ran before with torches; all these lights, vehicles, and liveries made up a charming spectacle—so gay and animated! There were a few accidents, but, God be praised, nothing happened to us. It was late when we returned, and I was very tired: I soon fell asleep, but my sleep was no rest. I dreamed, I pondered, and I saw the future.... How many things, how much weakness, and how much strength may exist in a woman's teeming brain!

The next day, precisely at twelve o'clock, after having made my toilet for the day, I went to the reception room, where the princess was already seated; I had just commenced to work at my embroidery, when a chamberlain entered hastily, and cried aloud: 'His royal highness the Duke of Courland.' The princess rose precipitately to receive him in the antechamber. At first I thought I would retire; but curiosity, or some feeling, I know not what, overcame my fear, and I remained. He entered, approached my workstand, and asked after my health. Notwithstanding my embarrassment, I replied with considerable self-possession. He took a seat near my frame, and seemed interested in my work. I had so strong a desire to appear calm that I succeeded in threading a fine needle with my heavy silk; but God knows how I trembled....

The prince royal praised my skill, and found opportunities of saying many kind and flattering things to me, although he spoke much more to the princess than to myself; he remained about half an hour. I now know that my dress did not change me in his eyes. As he left he told me he hoped to see me this evening at the ball given by the French ambassador, Marquis d'Argenson.

Ah! Barbara's wedding was nothing compared to the fêtes in Warsaw: there was as much luxury and magnificence, but the exquisite grace and chivalric courtesy here universal were wanting.

The country may try as it will, it is always a mere parody on the city: in the city, all are nearly alike; all are equally polished, and equally amiable; no one is permitted to speak tiresome truths; the compliments are all ready made, and people only differ in their mode of speaking them. From this general rule I must except the prince royal; his language has another coloring, and his graceful speeches have an air of inspiration.

But he could not say much to me at the Marquis d'Argenson's ball. I was no longer a Virgin of the Sun, and etiquette is much more rigid at a dress ball than at a fancy ball; besides, all the women near us tried to hear what he was saying to me, which displeased me exceedingly; such curiosity is disgusting in persons of high rank.

The princess is in an excellent humor; the prince royal danced only with her last evening; that is, she is the only lady advanced in years who had that honor. The prince palatine is kinder than ever; he asks no questions and offers me no advice. I am awaiting my sister's arrival with the greatest impatience; how many things I will have to tell her!

It is not yet a week since I left school, and the time seems to me ages long: so many events and such divers impressions crowd a lifetime into a few days! New emotions have given birth to a new nature; my dreams as a young girl have been surpassed, or rather have become a serious reality.

Sunday, January 5th.

Would any one believe it? During the whole of yesterday I thought neither of balls, nor of fêtes, not even of the prince royal himself: my mind was exclusively filled with my sister. She came sooner than had been expected, and was taken ill immediately after her arrival. The princess was sent for, and hastened to Barbara to remain all day. I desired to accompany her, but was not permitted. Until midnight I was in a horrible state of uneasiness; I sent to three churches to have masses said. Finally, at one o'clock, the princess returned; she told me that Barbara was doing well, and had given birth to a daughter. This morning I begged the princess to permit me to visit my sister, but she replied that I could not do so, as it was not proper for a young girl to visit a lady in Barbara's situation. There was nothing to be said, and so I must wait.

The starost called here for a moment; he seemed very, very happy. They say the little one is charming, red and white, and so plump; she is to be called Angelica, to please our mother, who is so named. Oh! if I could only see the dear child! I have all the honor of being an aunt, without any of the pleasure.

The prince royal sent to congratulate the princess upon the birth of the little girl, and he was kind enough to inquire after me by the same