Kosciusko never swerved from his soul's loyalty to the
bright Polish Laura of his cherished devotedness; and his subsequent
correspondence, one of pure, unselfish friendship, with the youngest
daughter of his venerable Anglo-American friend, lovely as she was
pure, confided to her how faithful had been his heart's allegiance to
the woman of his first and last vows. They had met during his track
of early military fame, and had exchanged these vows. But blighting
circumstances interfered, and they lived, and loved, but never met
again.
The narrator of these little reminiscences might well, perhaps most
agreeably, drop the curtain here; for strange and stirring incidents
awaited the two friends on their return to Europe, after a rather
prolonged sojourn amongst the animated hospitalities of a grateful
people.
The homeward side of that curtain was wrought in mingled fabric,
gold, silver, and various threaded yarns; and many were the different
hands that threw the shuttles--emperors, kings, princes, friends,
traitors; but above all, in the depth of mischief, the spirit of
suspicion had steeped the web.
Such was the lurid appearance of the great drama of Europe when
Kosciusko and Niemcivitz set foot again upon its shores. Death had
thrown his pall over some in high places and others in low. But more
cheering suns soon arose, to scare away the darkening shadows, and
the patriot heroes' hopes ascended with them.
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