large. Take them in the whole, they are such
compact, and even pretty, little beings, that no
idea of them can be formed from the clumsy,
deformed dwarfs which are exhibited at our
fairs in England. It is very curious to observe
how nearly they resemble each other; their
features are all so alike that you might easily
imagine that one pair had spread their progeny
over the whole country."

One of the most notable of these Polish dwarfs,
in the last century, was Joseph Borulawski,
generally known as Count Borulawski. He was
born in seventeen hundred and thirty-nine.
He was one of six brothers and sisters. Three
of the brothers were all about the middle
height. The eldest, born eleven years before
Joseph, was a strong and vigorous little fellow,
only forty-two inches in height; he became
page and then confidential steward to Countess
Inalawski. The sister was a much smaller specimen
of humanity; perhaps the smallest woman
who ever fell in love—for she did love, and
secretly befriended the young officer to whom
she never told her love, lest he should ridicule
her. Amiable and pretty, the tiny creature, who
is credited with only twenty-six inches of
stature, died in her twenty-second year. As to
Joseph, he became an European celebrity. He
was only eight inches long, when born; and
so determined did Nature seem to keep him
small, that she only allowed him fourteen inches
at one year old, and seventeen inches at six years.
Having been neglected by his parents, the
Countess de Tarnow educated him. Another
Polish lady, the Countess Humieski, begged him
of her, and he became quite a pet. He went to
Podolia, and lived in a castle, where he attained
a stature of twenty-one inches at ten years
old, and twenty-five inches at fifteen. His
protectress took him for a tour to the European
courts. They went to Vienna, where the
Empress Maria Theresa wished to present him
with a diamond ring from her finger; but
this being far too large, she gave him a ring
from the finger of Marie Antoinette, afterwards
the unfortunate Queen of France, then about
six years old. The little man was by that
time twenty-eight inches in his stockings.
Count Kaunitz, the minister, very much petted
him; but there was a feeling growing up in the
mind of Borulawski that, after all, he was only
treated as a toy—an amusing curiosity—and he
had his moments of mortification. Then they went
to Munich, and then to Paris, where the court
chroniclers told of his symmetrical proportions,
his fine eyes, his lively aspect, his healthy
constitution, his temperate habits (rather a novelty in
those days), his sound sleep, his graceful dancing,
his polished manners, his smart repartees, his
intelligent conversation, his good memory, his
sound judgment, his susceptible feelings, his
self-respect, his kindly disposition. One evening,
Count Oginski served up Borulawski in
a tureen, at a banquet, much to the surprise
and amusement of the guests. At the age of
twenty-five, Borulawski, then thirty-five inches
high, settled at Warsaw with his patroness. He
fell in love with a French actress; she pretended
to favour his suit, but made merry at his expense
behind his back—this was deeply wounding to the
little man. At thirty years old he was thirty–
nine inches high, and then he stopped growing.
At the age of forty he again fell into the toils of
love—this time with an amiable and beautiful
woman, who, after some hesitation, married him.
This proceeding so offended the Countess
Humieski, that she dismissed him from her suite.
He had to begin the world again, with his wife
and a baby; and hard work he found it, for the
great (as they are called) did not look so smilingly
upon him as before. He travelled about Europe,
first as a concert-giver, then as a superior kind
of showman, exhibiting himself for money. It
was a sore wound to his feelings; but there was
no help for it. He fought on bravely and
honourably. He was introduced to the English
royal family at about the time when the elder
sons of George the Third were growing up to
manhood.

Borulawski was contemporary with another
Polish dwarf, far inferior to him in all bodily and
mental characteristics. This was Nicholas Feny,
who assumed the name of Bébé. When born he
was only eight inches long, and weighed twelve
ounces; he was carried on a plate to church to
be christened, and his first cradle was his father's
wooden shoe. At eighteen months he was able
to walk, and at two years old he had a pair
of shoes made for him, an inch and a half long.
At six years old, when fifteen inches high, he
was introduced to Stanislaus, King of Poland,
who gave him the name of Bébé. The
Princess of Talmond was appointed to teach
him; but he was as small in intellect as in
stature, and could learn very little. Moreover,
he was passionate. When Borulawski went to
visit the king, the two dwarfs gazed at each
other, and the king made a remark as to the
mental superiority of Borulawski; this put
Bébé into such a passion that he tried to push
the other into the fire—a proceeding that brought
a flogging upon Bébé. He became prematurely
old and withered, and died at the age of twenty-
three; all accounts giving him a height of
thirty-three inches at the time of his death.
The king planned a marriage between Bébé and
Anne Therese Souvray, a native of the Vosges;
but Bébé died before the union was effected.
There were two sisters, Anne Therese and
Barbe, one thirty-three inches high, and the
other forty-one; they lived to be old women,
and danced and sang national songs in public.

Wybrand Lolkes, the Dutch dwarf, acquired
in his day some renown. He was one of
eight children of a poor fisherman. He learned
watch-making at Amsterdam, and then
carried on the trade at Rotterdam. Failing in
business, he resolved to get a living out of his
smallness. He came to London in the time of
old Astley, and was engaged at the Amphitheatre.
His wife (for he had a wife and three children)
used to lead him on the stage, and had to stoop,
that her hand might touch his. He was clumsy
and awkward, but agile and strong. When sixty