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Porter, Jane, 1776-1850

"Thaddeus of Warsaw"

It is hard to learn
resignation to the forgetfulness of those we love.
"Notwithstanding that I lost the pocket-book in a battlefield which
contained your direction, I wrote to you frequently at a venture; and
yet, though you knew in what spot in Poland you had left Thaddeus and
his family, I have never heard of you since the day of our
separation. You must have some good reason for your silence; at least
I hope so.
"Doubtless public report has afforded you some information relative
to the destruction of my ever-beloved country! I bear its fate on
myself. You will find me in a poor lodging at the bottom of St.
Martin's Lane. You will find me changed in everything. But the first
horrors of grief have subsided; and my clearest consolation in the
midst of my affliction rises out of its bitterest cause: I thank
Heaven, my revered grandfather and mother were taken from a
consummation of ills which would have reduced them to a misery I am
content to endure alone.
"Come to me, dear Somerset. To look on you, to press you in my arms,
will be a happiness which, even in hope, makes my heart throb with
pleasure.
"I will remain at home all day to-morrow, in the expectation of
seeing you; meanwhile, adieu, my dear Somerset. You will find at No.
5 St. Martin's Lane your ever affectionate
"THADDEUS CONSTANTINE, COUNT SOBIESKI." _Friday noon.


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