FOOTNOTES:

FOOTNOTES:[13]An officer in the Cossack cavalry.[14]Now connected by the longest railroad in the world with Petrograd (St. Petersburg), Russia.

[13]An officer in the Cossack cavalry.

[14]Now connected by the longest railroad in the world with Petrograd (St. Petersburg), Russia.

This was my first visit to a city, and I gazed with very wide wonder at the wooden sidewalks, the big stores, the many two-story houses, the well-dressed women and the numerous soldiers on the street. I could hardly understand what father said to me, so absorbed was I in the entirely new scenes before me.

Suddenly we heard the sound of trumpets, cymbals, and tambourines, accompanied by a lively song. Then a company of Cossacks on horseback issued from a side street. At the head of the column rode a group of special singers,—pesenniki.

Father and I stationed ourselves near the edge of the street, and tried to find a familiar figure. The long row of faces splashed hereand there with mud; the similar uniforms, with rifles protruding from leather straps at the back and swords at the side; the hats tipped to the right, all exactly at the same angle; every left hand holding the bridle reins, every right hand placed on the hips;—how was it possible to distinguish among them?

I soon decided that my only chance of finding Dimitri was to look for his horse, which I knew to be gray, while the majority were bay. It was not long before I shouted: "Father, look at the eighth row! Dimitri!" Then still louder: "Dimitri! Dimitri! Look! Here we are!"

Brother turned and nodded, but, to my great astonishment, did not come to us, but followed the others without giving any other expression of recognition.

Then I heard father saying, "Why can't you be quiet? Dimitri can't come to us until his company is dismissed."

Meanwhile the Cossacks, six abreast, continued to ride past us whistling and singing.

The entire population of the place now seemed to gather on the sidewalk. There were merchants in front of their stores, boys who tried hard to keep step with the horses, women returning from market with baskets on their arms, all gazing with appreciation at what was a daily sight. How very desirable it seemed to me to be one of such a company. How glad I was that my brother belonged to it, and that my father was a Cossack. Hoping to impress a pretty little girl who stood near me, I took off my felt cap with its yellow cloth top, symbolic of the East Siberian Cossacks, and then having looked at it, slowly put it on again.

The Cossack officers rode on one side of the men. They were distinguished not only by their brighter uniforms but also by the half Arabian horses on which they were mounted. Many of them had silver-plated belts aroundtheir waists. They had no rifles, only swords that shone brightly, while revolvers hung from their left sides. The bridles of their horses glimmered with silver. All the horses were covered with foam, showing that the drill had been no easy one.

When we reached the barracks, the commanding officer gave an order, and the whole company leaped like one man from their horses to the ground. Another order, and the horses were led to the stables, adobe buildings covered with thatched roofs.

After the horses were rubbed down and fed, Dimitri at last came and embraced us, saying: "Wait for me at the rooms of the second platoon, where I'll join you as soon as I am free."

Then he ran with others to wash before taking his place in the dining-room. As we made our way to the dormitory, my attention was again attracted by singing, but of a differentkind. It was the solemn prayer which was always chanted before dinner.

Soon we found ourselves in a long room in a brick building. Everything about it was exceedingly neat. High windows admitted plenty of light, and as all were open there was a fine circulation of fresh air. The walls were apparently freshly white-washed, the floors painted. In one corner hung a big ikon with a lamp under it. About fifty iron beds placed in two rows were down the middle. Each bed was covered with a gray blanket and each was marked with the name of the owner. Along the inside of the wall stood racks for the rifles.

When, after a half hour, we heard the chanting of the prayer of thanks in the dining-room near by, we looked expectantly at the door. The company soon filed in. Some stretched themselves on their beds, some sat down to read, and some began to mend their clothes.

When Dimitri came, one of father's first inquirieswas regarding schools and the promotion to officer rank. My brother was not well posted and so called the sergeant-major to help him. Time passed quickly until the hour for drill. Then the first Cossack who noticed that an officer had entered the room, exclaimed, "Silence! Rise!"

At once there was deep quiet as all arose. I was amazed at the sudden change, and looked with respect and fear at the man who could produce it. It was father's old-time friend, Captain Mongalov. I watched everything that he did with great intentness, noted how his worn-out uniform was tightly buttoned, how erect he held his body. Even the curves of his legs, probably caused from living so much on horseback, and the way he swayed from side to side as he walked, attracted me. And how splendid and fierce I thought his big black mustache reaching almost to his ears.

His face was a peculiar mixture of the Russianand Asiatic types, occasionally met among Siberian Cossacks. When he smiled, he showed two rows of perfect ivory, and he smiled often. Yet even with his comrades his expression could change to one of great sternness at the least break of discipline.

When he saw us he turned to my father with, "From where do you hail, friend?"

Father slowly and smilingly replied, "Don't you recognize me, Ivan Petrovitch? I have just come from the Ussuri."

"What! Is it you, Alexis Pavlovitch!" Mongalov exclaimed. "It's ages since I last saw you." And he embraced my father.

After a short exchange of reminiscences, he turned to me. "Is this your son? He promises to make a fine Cossack! Are you keeping in mind, my son, Cossack ideals of bravery and honor?"

Drawing myself to my full height in imitation of the bearing of those around me, Ianswered as well as I could, looking straight into his eyes as I did so.

"Good!" he exclaimed, and taking hold of me under the elbows he tossed me, like an old acquaintance, high into the air.

Then, suddenly, he turned to my father. "You must excuse me now. I want to see more of you some evening at my house." And, in a flash, the genial friend had changed into the stern commander of a company who, at a single word from him, proceeded to do the various tasks necessary before retiring.

The night was spent at the home of an aunt, whose husband, a grocer, was also a retired Cossack. Their home was a very humble one, but what it lacked in luxury it made up in the hospitality of its owners.

Fresh straw for beds was brought in and put in a room set apart. This straw was covered with heavy home-spun bed linen, some feather pillows, and two big fur coats as comforters. After a fire had been kindled in the stove, we were invited to partake of supper, which consisted of deer meat, pancakes heavily buttered, and sour cream.

After eating very heartily I became so sleepy that I was ordered to bed. When I awoke, the sun was streaming directly into my face.Father, who was already dressed, tried to hurry me by saying, "You are a nice Cossack! They must be half through the drill which you were so anxious to see. Mongalov has promised to give you a horse so that you can follow thesotnia" (a company of from one hundred and twenty to one hundred and sixty horsemen).

This was news to me. Burning my mouth in my haste to swallow my hot tea, I was ready to follow my father in a few minutes.

When we came to the barracks the Cossacks, holding on to the reins of their horses with their right hands, were assembled in the front yard, and the sergeant-major was calling the roll. "We came too late for the morning prayer," my father whispered to me as the roll was ended.

Here came an order from the sergeant-major. "Seat yourselves." At once every man leaped upon his horse.

"Line up," came next, and the horses arrangedthemselves in two straight lines, head to head and breast to breast.

"Silence!" was the next order, and all gazed mutely ahead, immovable as statues.

Some long command, the words of which I did not catch, followed, and the company changed positions to six in a row. A moment after, all were trotting along the road out of town.

As we started to follow, the sergeant-major hailed me. "Good morning! Are you the young fellow whom Captain Mongalov wishes to have a horse?"

"Yes," answered my father for me, adding, "But I'm afraid he isn't a good enough rider to follow the company."

"Never fear," returned the sergeant-major. "I'll bet he's a true Cossack and will take to horses as a duck does to a lake."

A soldier now held a horse until I had climbed into its saddle. When he let it go, itstarted so fast to catch up with the others that I had difficulty in keeping my seat. However I did this, and also managed to prevent the horse from joining the ranks.

After we had left the city, the company was halted in a big plain which stretched far out before us. It was somewhat rolling, with here and there washed-out places. The sergeant-major rode along the line inspecting the ammunition and appearance of the men. While he was doing this, horses were heard approaching at full speed. On the foremost sat Mongalov. A little behind came two other officers.

"Greetings to you, little brothers!" he shouted as he rode along the line without reining in his horse.

Then I was almost dumbfounded by the suddenness of a gigantic answer. "Good Day to Your Honor," came from the company as from one man.

Mongalov noticed me and kindly stopped tosay: "Keep close to the trumpeter and you'll see everything. Only don't get into anybody's way or I'll have to arrest you." With a smiling nod he rode to the front.

At a word from him, the officers took their places. Then followed several changes of position, all done with great rapidity and precision. I learned later that Captain Mongalov's men were unusually well trained even for Cossacks. The Captain loved his profession and the men were devoted to him. There was something fatherly in the great care that he took of the Cossacks under him. On the other hand, he was severe in punishing any breach of discipline. No one resented this since he was just and endeavored to make the punishment corrective.

At the conclusion of the drill Mongalov called out in a voice resounding with warm approval: "Well done, little brothers, well done. Thank you!"

And again, as one man, the company responded: "We were glad to do our best, Your Honor."

"Down!" was the next order.

All leaped together to the ground.

"Rest and smoke," came again, and he and his officers jumped off their own horses and stood together discussing the next drill.

The company followed their example, and soon burst into loud talk and laughter, while clouds of smoke arose from pipes and cigarettes.

In the meantime I didn't know what to do. I was afraid that if I climbed down I couldn't get up again on my horse, who seemed unusually lively and disobedient to me. But I was not left long in this awkward position, for after a quarter of an hour of rest the Cossacks were again on their horses, every man ready to obey any order.

To judge by the alert look on their faces,the most important part of the drill was now to come. Every eye was turned toward their commanding officer as if trying to guess what new trick would be required of them.

Mongalov sat on his steed, his right hand twirling his mustache, his eyes directed far down the field as if surveying the distance or estimating the difficulties before his men. Then his voice rang out abruptly: "Company, buildlava!"

These words produced an effect like a discharge of ammunition in the midst of the Cossacks. The horses rushed madly forward and to each side of the center, forming a kind of fan. Only by putting forth the full strength of my arm did I keep my horse in place, the proud animal trying so hard to show that she understood the command.

In the wink of an eye the compact body of horses was transformed into a long line of separate riders, stretched so that there was abouttwenty feet between each. All were still, the men with swords drawn out of their scabbards.

Mongalov no longer shouted orders but indicated what was to be done by waving his sword in different directions. As if charmed by its motions, the long line moved, now to the right, now to the left, now forward, now backward.

Once Mongalov, evidently dissatisfied, ordered the trumpeter to repeat through the trumpet the order given with the sword. Since that time I have loved the harmonious sounds of the Cossack trumpet which in a very short time I grew to understand as plainly as spoken words.

Here something happened. Mongalov again made a sign to the trumpeter. A short, disagreeably false tone was the result. At this the Cossacks acted like mad. With swords outstretched, they bent down to their horses' manes and with a terrible yell, "Whee-ee!" they rushed wildly to the front against an imaginaryenemy. My horse with ears back, took her bit between her teeth, and flew after them. Here I learned how rapidly a horse can travel. The air whistled in my ears; my hat was blown off; my feet flew from the stirrups; and not to be thrown off, I grabbed the horse by the mane, uttering a short prayer.

I did not know what was happening around me until I found myself, perhaps because of my light weight, among the other Cossacks. Around me were excited faces with wild expressions; faces that had lost their humanity; faces such as demons might possess, or Christian fanatics who would lay down their lives for their faith.

As we rode, a big washout suddenly loomed before us. Most of the horses immediately jumped over and disappeared in a mad rush forward. But my horse and those of three men, perhaps through some fault on our part, did not make the proper jump. I felt a shockas the hoofs of my horse struck the opposite banks of the ravine, and then the horse fell to the ground, throwing me over its head into the middle of a mud-hole.

As I struggled to get up, there came a new signal of three long harmonious sounds. Thelavawas stopped. Once out of the hole, I saw a line of still excited horses far to the front. Two or three riderless horses, one of them mine, were running around them. Not far from me lay another breathing hard and trying vainly to rise. Near it a Cossack lay stretched out, while two others sat on the ground a short distance away.

In a short time Mongalov, the trumpeter, and two officers, came galloping to us. His first question was to me. "Are you hurt?"

"No," I replied, in a voice that sounded strange to me, so shaken was I with the new experience.

"Here," said Mongalov to a Cossack,"place this boy back of yourself." Then, throwing the reins of his horse to the trumpeter, he leaped down and turned his attention to the man lying stretched on the ground.

He proved to be alive but with a leg broken and was put into the ambulance which had come up. "What's the matter with you?" Mongalov asked the two bruised, scratched, and mud-covered men who sat on the ground.

"Nichevo,"[15]they answered, smiling and shaking their heads. And as soon as their horses were caught and brought to them, they managed to leap on them as if in reality nothing had happened.

When my horse was led up, Mongalov looked at me where I sat ashamed to meet his gaze, holding tightly to the belt of the man before me. "You can stay where you are, my boy," he said kindly, "or ride your own horse. But let me congratulate you on being now a trueCossack. The man who has never fallen from his saddle can never make a satisfactory cavalryman!"

How much good these words did me! They not only made me feel at ease with myself, but taught me one of the best lessons of my life: that mistakes or mishaps do not down a man who can rise above them. With some difficulty I slipped from my safe position, and climbed as swiftly as possible into the saddle of my former horse.

It was not long before the entire company were again on their way back to town. At the call "Singers forward," several Cossacks left the ranks and took their places at the head of the column. One of these men was urged to sing and he responded with a Little Russian song about a Cossack who returned home from fighting the Turks. At the conclusion of each stanza those surrounding the soloist began the refrain which was taken up by the entire company.Listening to this story-telling song I almost forgot that I was in Siberia, so vividly did pictures of what took place far away a hundred years ago pass before me.

This song was followed by a boisterous rollicking one. The chorus was loud and accompanied by cymbals and tambourine. Any one glancing at the broadly smiling and yelling faces, would not have believed that their owners were just returning from the most strenuous kind of work, had it not been for the mud and perspiration visible and their foam-covered horses.

FOOTNOTE:[15]Nothing; no harm.

[15]Nothing; no harm.

As we approached the town, there was less talking and laughing and the singing became less boisterous. The crowds gathered as I had seen them before, and showed their appreciation of the songs by now and then joining in the chorus.

photo of three officersCOSSACK OFFICERS

COSSACK OFFICERS

Before the barracks were reached, the men leaped down from the horses, loosened their saddle girths, and led them to the stables. Here they unsaddled them, gave them hay, and curried them, while the non-commissioned officers inspected their legs as well as the skin that had been under the saddles. This was done with much caution, for Captain Mongalov was particularly strict regarding the health andcare of the horses. Where there was negligence, his usual reprimand was apt to end with: "Don't forget next time that the Cossack army's efficiency depends more on the sound legs of a good horse than on the blockhead who does not know enough to take care of them."

When all the horses had been inspected, cleaned, watered, and given their prescribed measure of oats, the men were allowed to go to get themselves ready for dinner, leaving, however, four men whose turn it was to take care of the stables.

I wish there were time to tell of all the wonders of that garrison visit, of the dinner in the big dining-room with Dimitri, of the lessons given the young men, of the instructing officers, and most of all of my first sight of the fascinating and difficult exercise called thejigatovka, which I saw that same afternoon, and which consisted of horse vaulting, dart throwing at a gallop and many other things.

Captain Mongalov invited us all to spend the evening at his house, and by six o'clock my father, my aunt, and I were at his front door. Being a little in advance of the others, I tried to open it, but, to my surprise, found it was not possible to do so. Could it be locked, I wondered. In our village such a thing was never done except under very unusual circumstances. Father, noting my surprise, pointed to a handle on the door which he bade me pull down. I did so and heard a loud ring within. In a moment the door was opened by an orderly, who greeted us like friends and invited us in.

When he had gone to announce us, I glanced around the room. A big desk occupied the left corner, the top of which was covered with books relating to military regulations. The big brass inkstand with its two kinds of ink, black and red, especially attracted me. On a table near by, a heavy nickel-plated lamp threw its light over a mass of official papers. Insteadof benches around the room as at my own home there were numerous comfortable chairs.

One wall was covered with the skins of wild beasts. I recognized those of a black and of a brown bear. Above these were fastened enormous antlers. On their very numerous branches hung swords, daggers, and other arms. Pictures, one of which was that of an old lady plainly dressed (the Captain's mother), hung on the opposite wall.

Then my attention fastened itself on a big tiger skin covering a sofa. I touched the artificial eyes which looked so intently at me; I wondered if the teeth were real. So occupied did I become that it was like an electric shock to feel a sudden clap on my shoulder and the Captain's hearty voice greeting me.

I immediately experienced a strong desire to converse with him as I would with an older brother, but he had turned from me and wasbusy answering some of my father's numerous questions.

The bell rang again and admitted a new group. My aunt at once stepped up and threw her arms about one of the women in it, who proved to be her own cousin from the pretty neighboring city of Blagovestchensk. Closely following the cousin came her husband, a former artillery officer, with a very long beard. His thick, bushy gray hair framed a small sympathetic face. With them was a pale but very attractive lady dressed in a gray suit. A little girl of about my own age, had hold of her hand.

Mongalov greeted this lady with particular respect and gallantly kissed her hand. Then he invited all to take off their wraps and make themselves at home, that is, all but Nina, the little girl, and myself. He had beckoned to us to follow the orderly into the garden.

Here we found many things to interest us.There was a horse that refused sugar from Nina but accepted, to my great delight, bread and salt from me. There were fancy chickens, and, best of all, a sort of see-saw on which I condescended to accept Nina's invitation to play. We stood as straight as possible on the board which was balanced on a log, and as it went up and down jumped alternately into the air, each time going a little higher. Nina was not at all afraid, and despite a peculiar seriousness about her, we were well acquainted when supper was announced.

The table, set with more good things than I had ever seen before, was in a long dining-room. Soon everybody was laughing and joking, everybody except Nina's mother. It seemed to me that she was not like the rest of us but I could not have told why.

The supper lasted a long time and when we returned to the big living-room, the piano, which stood on one side, was opened and LidiaIvanovna, the lady in gray, consented to play some Russian airs from Glinka's opera, "Life of the Tzar."

Shortly after, both she and her little daughter as well as my aunt's cousin left, pleading the weariness still felt by the strangers from long travel.

When they had gone, Mongalov turned to the former artillery officer, whose name was Kuzmin, and asked, "Where did you meet Lidia Ivanovna?"

"She came with a caravan of prisoners sent from St. Petersburg." (Petrograd.) "I am told that she is looking for her husband who was sent to Siberia a few years ago as a political exile.[16]If she can find him, she wishes to share his fate."

Here I exclaimed impulsively: "It ought to be easy to find him. The government officials can surely tell her where he is."

Kuzmin smiled bitterly. "They can, perhaps, if they wish. You must remember, however, that Siberia is no little state. When I came here, it was with many thousands of prisoners, mostly Poles who had fought for their country's independence, and they are now so scattered that you might not meet a dozen in a lifetime."

"How big is Siberia?" I asked.

"In figures, it is more than five million square miles, but see that map hanging on the wall," said the old man with some eagerness, as if glad of the change in the conversation, "and see that little dot. That stands for the biggest city you know, the one you are now in, Habarovsk."

"That little dot!" I exclaimed in surprise, for no one had ever explained a map to me before.

"This waving line," continued Kuzmin, "is the Amur River."

Again I stared incredulously. How could a little line stand for the very wide Amur whose waters ran from horizon to horizon!

"Now that is only a small part of Siberia," said my new teacher. "From here at Habarovsk to the Ural Mountains, which separate Siberia from Russia, it takes two months to travel both day and night in a carriage."

"Tell me some other things about Siberia," I begged.

He pointed to a blue spot in the south. "This is Lake Baikal,[17]the largest body of fresh water in Asia, about four hundred miles long and about forty-five miles wide. It is fifteenhundred feet above the level of the sea. It is a place full of mystery. I don't know if any one yet has been able to find how deep it is. On one side are all kinds of caverns and arches. It's pretty but it's mysterious. Now and then the earth in the vicinity trembles and quakes. Irkutsk, the largest and most important city in Siberia, is not very far from it."

After a moment's pause, he went on: "Let me tell you something of Blagovestchensk,[18]my own city. But no; I'd talk too long. Why don't you move there?" turning suddenly to my father.

My father shook his head. "If I move," he said slowly, "I want to try farming."

"Farming offers many inducements," agreed Kuzmin. "I meet many farmers who came here penniless and now have hundreds of acresof land and hundreds of head of cattle and stables filled with grain."[19]

"Were you ever in St. Petersburg?" I asked unexpectedly. At this question a queer change came over Kuzmin's face and he looked down without answering.

Here Mongalov reached for his balalaika, a sort of Russian mandolin, and began to play some gay Russian airs on it.

When we reached home, I asked my father why Kuzmin did not wish to talk about St. Petersburg.

"He is a useful and clever man," my father answered, "but, poor fellow, he belongs to the unfortunates."

From that I understood that, like Lidia Ivanovna's husband, the former artillery officer was an exile.

FOOTNOTES:[16]Siberia was formerly a penal colony.[17]Lake Baikal's depth has never been measured. It is said to be the deepest lake in the world. There are many very interesting things about this lake. For one thing, everything points to its being very ancient. Water flowing into it is supposed to be ten times that flowing out into the Angara River. What becomes of it? Its waters are fresh, yet gulls, cormorants, and other birds usually found only on the sea, haunt it, and seals actually live in it. The peasants call it the Holy Sea and have many superstitions regarding it.—The Editor.[18]Blagovestchensk is now one of the prettiest cities in Siberia. It has tree-lined avenues, parks, and attractive residences. There are also fine schools, public libraries, theaters, and hospitals free to the poor.—The Editor.[19]Between 1905 and 1914 more than 3,000,000 colonists settled in Siberia. A great deal has been done by the Russian Government to help the new settlers in their new life.—The Editor.

[16]Siberia was formerly a penal colony.

[17]Lake Baikal's depth has never been measured. It is said to be the deepest lake in the world. There are many very interesting things about this lake. For one thing, everything points to its being very ancient. Water flowing into it is supposed to be ten times that flowing out into the Angara River. What becomes of it? Its waters are fresh, yet gulls, cormorants, and other birds usually found only on the sea, haunt it, and seals actually live in it. The peasants call it the Holy Sea and have many superstitions regarding it.—The Editor.

[18]Blagovestchensk is now one of the prettiest cities in Siberia. It has tree-lined avenues, parks, and attractive residences. There are also fine schools, public libraries, theaters, and hospitals free to the poor.—The Editor.

[19]Between 1905 and 1914 more than 3,000,000 colonists settled in Siberia. A great deal has been done by the Russian Government to help the new settlers in their new life.—The Editor.

Next morning my father took me to an exhibition held to show something of the resources of Siberia. While I studied the many evidences of great mineral wealth,[20]my father devoted his attention to everything that pertained to farming.

On the way back to my aunt's I learned that we were not to go home yet, father having decided to stay for the week of repentance, a religious custom observed by orthodox Russians.

"You are now old enough to take your first sacrament after confession," he said to me.

When I went next to the big church, with its onion-shaped dome, I felt quite nervous thinking of all the faults and sins that I would have to confess for the first time in my life.

The service was a very solemn one. Every once in a while one of the black-robed priests came out from behind the sacred gates on the altar and read the prayer:

"Lord and Protector of my life,Keep me from idleness,Keep me from disappointment,Keep me from false ambition,Keep me from idle chattering.Give me chastity,Give me humility and love,Me, Thy servant.O Heavenly Czar, open my eyes to my sins;Let me not judge my neighbors,Let me reverence Thee always."

Not until the end of the service did the choir sing something very sweet in a minor key.

Child though I was, I left the church with a sense of the vanity of earthly things. I wasready to repent. I particularly remembered a day when I had taken a stick and hit my dog, poor dear Manjur. This, I told myself, I must confess, and also how often I had teased my baby sister.

On the night of confession, when, after a very long wait, my turn came, I found myself before a priest whose long beard made his face remind me of pictures of prophets that I had seen. It was very late, and he looked tired, but his eyes shone with sympathy as he listened to my brief recital.

I was so overcome with weariness[21]when I reached home that I threw myself, supperless and partly dressed, on my bed and at once fell asleep.

I awoke very hungry next morning and after washing, hurried to the table where breakfast usually awaited me. The table was empty andall the people in the room were dressed in their Sunday clothes.

"Get ready quickly," said my father, "to come with us to church."

"But can't I have some bread and tea first?" I asked.

"No, indeed," said my father sternly. "You must not drink even a drop of water between confession and the taking of the sacrament."

"A drop of water!" I repeated in confusion. For it had happened that I had swallowed a drop when washing that morning. This troubled me until later the priest assured me that that did not count, since it had been involuntary.

I went to church with my stomach groaning for food. This, and the incense-laden air, caused me to feel faint until at last with many others, I received my share of the consecrated bread and wine.

This somewhat revived me, and I looked around with more interest at the people near by. There were several persons of note in the church, some in government uniforms with numerous medals on their breasts. Mongalov and his Cossack officers were among these, dressed in entirely new uniforms, but without fire-arms or ammunition, even their swords being detached and kept for them by outsiders until they had partaken of the sacrament.

When we came back to my aunt's I found many preparations already made for the Easter festival. The big dining-table had been much enlarged. It was covered with a white cloth and decorated with flowers and greens. On it were all kinds of attractive food. I was most impressed by what the Russians callpashka. It was in the shape of a pyramid and had been made by my aunt from cottage cheese, mixed with cream, sugar, and raisins. On it were figures of the Cross.

On each side of thepashka, which occupied the center of the table, was an entire ham baked in dough, several dozen eggs covered with various bright designs, and many other things.

To my great disappointment, nobody was allowed to touch even a bit of bread. Everything had to wait for Easter morn.

I was told that I should be awakened that night, and I was by the solemn ringing of the heaviest bells in the neighborhood. We dressed hastily and hurried to the church for the midnight service. There were so many already there that we had difficulty in entering.

Everybody looked happy, even the priests who were all dressed in white, silvery robes. When the service was over there was much kissing, every one repeating, "Christ is risen," or the response, "He is risen indeed."

It was almost four o'clock before we returned home with two or three guests who hadbeen invited to break the fast with us. Before any other food was served, small pieces of consecratedpashkaand an Easter cake calledkulichwere passed around.

The next day was spent by the men in paying calls to all whom they knew. As they had to eat and drink at every house, the result can be imagined.

The Easter celebration lasted a full week. What I liked best about it was the merry rolling of eggs down hill, the swings, enormous slides and see-saws, and other amusements provided for the children.

At last the joyous time came to an end, and after a last breakfast with Dimitri in the dining-room of the Second Platoon, father and I mounted our horses for home.

It seemed very long to me since I had come away. I thought several times of Peter and wondered if I could not show him some of the tricks of thejigatovka. When we neared ourvillage, I sat very proud and erect with my mind quite made up that mother would surely mistake me for Dimitri. But as we rode into our yard, instead of anything like that happening, mother came running out and throwing her arms about me exclaimed: "O Vanyuska,[22]you must be tired out from your long ride. Come in quickly and tell me how you ever managed for so long without your mother?"

THE END

FOOTNOTES:[20]Siberia is remarkably rich in minerals. It is especially famed for its gold, which is found chiefly in Central and Eastern Siberia.[21]There are no pews in Orthodox Russian churches. The entire congregation stands or kneels during the entire service.—The Editor.[22]Vanka is the ordinary diminutive for Ivan (John), while Vanyuska is another and more affectionate diminutive.—The Editor.

[20]Siberia is remarkably rich in minerals. It is especially famed for its gold, which is found chiefly in Central and Eastern Siberia.

[21]There are no pews in Orthodox Russian churches. The entire congregation stands or kneels during the entire service.—The Editor.

[22]Vanka is the ordinary diminutive for Ivan (John), while Vanyuska is another and more affectionate diminutive.—The Editor.

Selections fromL. C. Page & Company'sBooks for Young People

THE BLUE BONNET SERIES

Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume$1.75

A TEXAS BLUE BONNET

ByCaroline E. Jacobs.

"The book's heroine, Blue Bonnet, has the very finest kind of wholesome, honest, lively girlishness."—Chicago Inter-Ocean.

BLUE BONNET'S RANCH PARTY

ByCaroline E. Jacobs and Edyth Ellerbeck Read.

"A healthy, natural atmosphere breathes from every chapter."—Boston Transcript.

BLUE BONNET IN BOSTON

ByCaroline E. Jacobs and Lela Horn Richards.

"It is bound to become popular because of its wholesomeness and its many human touches."—Boston Globe.

BLUE BONNET KEEPS HOUSE

ByCaroline E. Jacobs and Lela Horn Richards.

"It cannot fail to prove fascinating to girls in their teens."—New York Sun.

BLUE BONNET—DÉBUTANTE

ByLela Horn Richards.

An interesting picture of the unfolding of life for Blue Bonnet.

BLUE BONNET OF THE SEVEN STARS

ByLela Horn Richards.

"The author's intimate detail and charm of narration gives the reader an interesting story of the heroine's war activities."—Pittsburgh Leader.

THE HENRIETTA SERIES

ByLela Horn RichardsEach one volume, 12mo, illustrated$1.90

ONLY HENRIETTA

"It is an inspiring story of the unfolding of life for a young girl—a story in which there is plenty of action to hold interest and wealth of delicate sympathy and understanding that appeals to the hearts of young and old."—Pittsburgh Leader.

HENRIETTA'S INHERITANCE

"One of the most noteworthy stories for girls issued this season. The life of Henrietta is made very real, and there is enough incident in the narrative to balance the delightful characterization."—Providence Journal.

STORIES BY I. M. B. OF K.

Each one volume, 12mo, illustrated$1.75

THE YOUNG KNIGHT

The clash of broad-sword on buckler, the twanging of bow-strings and the cracking of spears splintered by whirling maces resound through this stirring tale of knightly daring-do.

THE YOUNG CAVALIERS

"There have been many scores of books written about the Charles Stuarts of England, but never a merrier and more pathetic one than 'The Young Cavaliers.'"—Family Herald.

THE KING'S MINSTREL

"The interesting situations are numerous, and the spirit of the hero is one of courage, devotion and resource."—Columbus Dispatch.

"It is told with spirit and action."—Buffalo Express.

"The story will please all those who read it, and will be of particular interest for the boys for whom it was intended. It is a tale of devotion to an ideal of service and as such will appeal to youth."—Portage Register-Democrat.

"There is a lofty ideal throughout, some court intrigue, a smattering of the decadence of the old church heads, and a readable story."—Middletown Press.

THE BOYS' STORY OF THERAILROAD SERIES

ByBurton E. StevensonEach large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, $1.75

THE YOUNG SECTION-HAND;Or, The Adventures of Allan West.

"The whole range of section railroading is covered in the story."—Chicago Post.

THE YOUNG TRAIN DISPATCHER

"A vivacious account of the varied and often hazardous nature of railroad life."—Congregationalist.

THE YOUNG TRAIN MASTER

"It is a book that can be unreservedly commended to anyone who loves a good, wholesome, thrilling, informing yarn."—Passaic News.

THE YOUNG APPRENTICE;Or, Allan West's Chum.

"The story is intensely interesting."—Baltimore Sun.

THE DAYS OF CHIVALRY SERIESOf Worth While Classics for Boys and Girls

Revised and Edited for the Modern ReaderEach large 12mo, illustrated and with a poster jacket in full color$2.00

THE DAYS OF CHIVALRY

ByW. H. Davenport Adams.

"The hero is Aimery, son of a poor armorer, who becomes page to the Lord of Rulamort. It is a tale of wars, but a tale which brings peace; a peace and contentment in the knowledge that right, even in the darkest times, has survived and conquered."—Portland Express.

THE CHAPLET OF PEARLS

ByC. M. Yonge.

Catherine de Medici and gay King Henri II; their sons Francois II, Charles IX, and Henri III; and finally the great and martial figure of Henri of Navarre are prominent in these pages.

"A splendid piece of work, and lovers of French history will find it most agreeable reading."—Buffalo Courier and Express.

BARBARA WINTHROP SERIES

ByHelen Katherine BroughallEach one volume, cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated$1.75

BARBARA WINTHROP AT BOARDING SCHOOL

"The book has pleasing spontaneity, high ideals and wholesomeness."—New York Continent.

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