"
"No thanks to me, Count Sobieski. The moment I entered this room, I
recollected you to be the same Polish officer I had observed on the
beach at Dantzic. When I described your figure to the man who brought
the horse, he said it was the same who gave him the letter. I could
not learn your excellency's name; but I hoped one day or other to
have the pleasure of meeting you again, and of returning Saladin into
your hands in as good condition as when he came to mine."
Tears started into the eyes of Thaddeus.
"That horse, Mr. Hopetown, has carried me through many a bloody
field; he alone witnessed my last adieu to the bleeding corpse of my
country! I shall receive him again as an old and dear friend; but to
his kind protector, how can I ever demonstrate the whole of my
gratitude?" [Footnote: The love of Thaddeus to his horse has had some
resemblances in the author's knowledge in yet more recent times. It
seems to belong to the brave heart of every country in our civilized
Europe, as well as in that of the wild Arab of the desert, to
companion itself with his war-steed as with a friend or brother. I
knew more than one gallant man who wept over the doom of his old
charger when shot in the lines near Corunna; and another, of the same
and other fields, who can never mention without turning pale the name
of his faithful and beloved horse Columbus, who had carried him
through various dangers on the South American continent, and at last
perished by his side during a tremendous storm at sea, when no
exertions of his master could save him.
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