The King, on accepting the book which the Count wished to present, turned to the Marchioness of Conyngham, and took from her a little case containing a beautiful miniature watch and seals, attached to a superb chain, the watch exquisitely ornamented with jewels. This the King begged the Count to accept, saying, as he held the _Memoirs_ in the other hand, "My dear friend, I shall read and preserve this as long as I live, for your sake; and in return I request you will wear this for mine." His Majesty said to Mathews, in the absence of the Count, "If I had a dozen sons, I could not point out to them a more perfect model of good breeding and elegance than the Count; he is really a most accomplished and charming person." It appears that, by the kindness of friends, Boruwlaski had purchased an annuity, which secured him independence for the remainder of his life. Out of this transaction arose a laughable incident. One day he called at the insurance office with Mr. Mathews, and on being asked how he was, he replied, with the vivacity of eighteen, "Oh, _never_ better! _quite_ vel!" and he ran out of the office from the gaze of the aged insurer, scarcely able to restrain his merriment till he got out of hearing. He then told Mr. Mathews, during his convulsions of laughter, that the person they had just seen was the granter of his annuity. "Ha! ha! ha! O Mattew, I cannot help! Oh _poor devil_, poor _hold_ body! It _maks me laffing_, poor _hold hanimal_! Oh he say prayer for me die, often when he _slip_! Oh you may _de_pend--ha! ha! ha! but Boruwlaski _never_ die! He _calcoolated dat_ dwarf not live it long, _et_ I live it forty year to _plag_ him. Oh he is in a _hobbel debblishly_! I _tellee dat_! He fifty year _yonger den_ Boruwlaski; _mintime_ he dead as soon as me. Oh yes, you may be sure _dat_--_dat_ is my _oppinnon_. Boruwlaski never die," playfully nodding his little head, "you may _de_pend." Mr. Mathews asked him if the old man had any family (feeling some compassion for his hard case), to which the Count cried out, "Oh he have it _shildren_ twenty, like a pig, poor _devel_! _mintime_ he _riche_ body! Oh he have it _goold et wast_ many bank _nott_. _Bote_ he have it _greet prepencity_ to keep him fast hold, poor idi_ot_! _It macks me laffing!_"--(See the _Memoirs of Charles Mathews_, by Mrs. Mathews.) To these characteristics we are enabled to add that of an English letter, written by the Count in his _eighty-ninth_ year, the handwriting of which is singularly firm and steady, resembling that of a school boy of about fourteen. We shall copy it _literatim_ from the autograph letter in the possession of Lord Houghton. It is addressed to Miss Emma George, at Miss Bird's, Pitt street, Edinburgh, and runs thus:--