My Horse; My Love 



INTRODUCTION 



' Ah, this is delightful,' exclaimed the Count, as he held 

 his hands toward the cheerful blaze of a bright v.'ood fire 

 on our broad old hearthstone. 



The Count had come to make us a long-promised visit in 

 the early autumn, arriving at the twilight hour of a dreary 

 day, chill and bleak, with a persistent soaking rain, and a 

 gusty, soughing wind. For one long week the sun had 

 hidden his face behind the dull and sodden sky, depriving 

 us of the solace even of a brisk \valk or a game at tennis 

 in these last days of our summer sojourn by the seaside. 

 So we heard the roar of the ocean, and the howling wind 

 • outside, with a pleasing sense of comfort in the contrast, as 

 we watched the wide flames, now shooting up with a noisy 

 crackling energy, now dying down to a hissing, mysterious 

 whisper. 



Conversation was brisk, for the Count had such an inex- 

 haustible fund of romance, fact, story and adventure that 

 we gave him little chance of rest when an adroit question 

 here and there inspired him to tell us of his past life. A 

 Polish patriot — the last of the noble family of Kosciusko — 

 his studied English and quaint accent added greatly to the 



interest of his narrations. 



A 



