Poland -- History -- Stanislaus II Augustus, 1764-1795 -- Fiction
How frequently he had said to the palatine, when
his carriage-wheels were chased by the thankful multitude, "O my
father! how can I ever be sufficiently grateful to God for the
happiness he hath allotted to me in making me the dispenser of so
many blessings! The gratitude of these people overpowers and humbles
me in my own eyes; what have I done to be so eminently favored of
Heaven? I tremble when I ask myself the question." "You may tremble,
my dear boy," replied his grandfather, "for indeed the trial is a
severe one. Prosperity, like adversity, is an ordeal of conduct. Two
roads are before the rich man--vanity or virtue; you have chosen the
latter, and the best; and may Heaven ever hold you in it! May Heaven
ever keep your heart generous and pure! Go on, my dear Thaddeus, as
you have commenced, and you will find that your Creator hath bestowed
wealth upon you not for what you have done, but as the means of
evincing how well you would prove yourself his faithful steward."
This _was_ the fortune of Thaddeus; and _now_, he who had
scattered thousands without counting them drew back his hand with
something like horror at his own injustice, when he was going to give
away one little piece of silver, which he might want in a day or two,
to defray some indispensible debt.
"Mrs. Robson," said he, as he replaced his cap upon his head, "I
shall return before it is dark."
"Very well, sir," and opening the door, he went out into the lane.
Ignorant of the town, and thanking Providence for having prepared him
an asylum, he directed his course towards Charing Cross. He looked
about him with deepened sadness; the wet and plashy state of the
streets gave to every object so comfortless an appearance, he could
scarcely believe himself to be in that London of which he had read
with so much delight. Where were the magnificent buildings he
expected to see in the emporium of the world? Where that cleanliness,
and those tokens of greatness and splendor, which had been the
admiration and boast of travellers? He could nowhere discover them;
all seemed parts of a dark, gloomy, common-looking city.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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