“You see, Sir, that my answers are equally frank and sincere. Being a prisoner of war, and still shut up in an unwholesome and solitary dungeon, I know that, though I have nothing to hope, I have everything to fear. It is not, however, this which renders me most unhappy. The thought of seeing my country a prey to all calamities, to the horrors of war, in danger, or perhaps even on the point of losing its existence for ever; it is this that fills my heart with the most painful and poignant grief. The clemency and profound wisdom of her Majesty the Empress, are the only hope I look to. If this great sovereign, at whose single word empires rise and fall, lends her relieving hand to Poland, she will be entitled to my gratitude for ever, and I will forget my sufferings.”
“State Prison, December the 27th, 1794.”
Whilst, tired with writing all the night, I was lying on my bed, without being able to close my eyes, at about twelve o'clock Makarow entered my room. He was accom-
