ELIZABETH; OR THE EXILES OF SIBERIA

DONALD G. MITCHELL

DONALD G. MITCHELL (1822- ) is an American author. He has contributed largely to magazines under the name "Ik Marvel." His book "About Old Story Tellers," from which this selection is taken, was written for young people.

NOTE. The book of which Mr. Mitchell here tells the story was written by a French woman, Madame Cottin.

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Siberia is a country of great wastes, where snows lie fearfully deep in winter, and winds howl across the bleak, vast levels, and wolves abound. To this pitiless country the emperor of Russia was wont to send prisoners of state 10 in close exile.

Elizabeth was the daughter of such a prisoner, who, with his wife, lived in a lonely habitation in the midst of this dreary region.

She grows up in this desolate solitude, knowing only 15 those tender parents and their gnawing grief. She knows nothing of their crime, or exile, or judge, or real name. But as she ripens into girlhood the parents cannot withhold their confidence, and she comes to know of their old home on the Polish plains.

From this time forth the loving daughter has but one controlling thought, and that is how she may restore these sorrowing parents to their home and to the world.

It is a child's purpose; and opposed to it is the purpose

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of the Autocrat of all the Russias. But courage and persistence are noble things, and they win more triumphs than you could believe. They will win them over school lessons, and bad habits, and bad temper, just as surely as 5 they will win them in the battles of the world.

How could this frail creature set about the undoing of an imperial edict? Over and over she pondered in the solemn quietude of those wintry Siberian nights, upon all the ways that might avail to gain her purpose.

At last she formed the resolve-and a very bold one it was to make the journey on foot from the place of their exile to the Russian capital; never doubting, in the fullness of her faith, that if she could once gain a hearing from the emperor she could win his favor and put an end to her 15 father's exile. Ah! what could she know of the bitterness of royal hate, or of that weary march of over two thousand miles across all the breadth of Russia?

She had not the courage to tell of this resolution to her parents; but kept it ever uppermost in her thoughts as 20 months and years rolled on.

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One friend she made her confidant; this was the son of the governor of Tobolsk, who, in his hunting expeditions, had come unawares upon her father's cabin and thereafter repeated twice or thrice his visit.

The young hunter could not aid her; for intercourse with the exiled family was forbidden, and he had already been summoned away and ordered to regions unknown.

At last, after years of waiting, - Elizabeth being now eighteen, - an old priest came that way who was journeying to the west. It seemed her golden opportunity. She declared now, for the first time, her purpose to her parents. They expostulated and reasoned with her. The 5 long way was a drear one; monarchs were remorseless; they had grown old in exile and could bear it to the end. But the tender girl was unshaken and steadfast. She bade them a tearful adieu, and with the old priest by her side, turned her steps toward the Russian capital.

Before the journey was half done the old priest sickened and died—she nursing him and closing his eyes for his last sleep-in a cabin by the way.

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Still she had no thought of turning back, but wearily and painfully pressed on. It will make your hearts ache 15 to read the story of her toil, of her bleeding feet, of her encounters with rude plunderers, her struggles with storm and snow.

There were great stretches of silent forest; there were broad rivers to cross; there were gloomy ravines to pass 20 through. Her strength was failing. She had been robbed of her money, and the winter was coming on. There was no messenger or mail to tell her of the dear ones she had left behind in the little cabin. But, through all, her courage never once failed; and at last it rejoiced her heart to 25 see in the blazing sunlight, on the edge of the Muscovite plains, the great, shining domes of the palace of Moscow.

Here she was a stranger in a great city. The wilderness of the streets was full of more terrors and more dangers for her than the wilderness of the vast forests she had crossed in safety. Her very frailty, however, 5 with her earnestness and her appealing look, won upon passers-by. Well wishers befriended her, and heard her story with amazement. And her story spread, and made other wellwishers aid, until at last she came to the feet of the emperor. They knew-all of them the tale she 10 had to tell; and the eyes of all pleaded so strongly that her request was granted and the father set free.

Of course the story glides on very pleasantly after this. She has a government coach to carry her back over that long stretch of foot travel. She finds her parents yet alive. 15 She somehow has encountered that stray son of the governor of Tobolsk; and I believe they were married, and all lived happily ever after.

The book of which I have given you the story was printed in the time of the first Napoleon (1806), and had 20 an immense success. There is hardly a language of Europe in which it is not to be found now.

It is a good story. What devotion!-so rare, so true, so tender! Read it for this, if for nothing else, and cherish the memory in your young hearts.

Abridged.

Autocrat of all the Russias: the czar, who rules with absolute authority. Tobolsk a government of western Siberia. — Mus'covite: Russian. The name of ancient Russia was Muscovy.

THE DAWN OF PEACE

JOHN RUSKIN

JOHN RUSKIN (1819-1900) was an English author and artist. To defend the painter, Turner, from his critics, Ruskin wrote his first great book, "Modern Painters." He was greatly interested in social progress.

Awake! awake! the stars are pale, the east is russet gray: They fade, behold the phantoms fade, that kept the gates 5 of day;

Throw wide the burning valves, and let the golden streets

be free,

The morning watch is past-the watch of evening shall

A surer grasp your hands must know, your hearts a better

trust.

Nay, bend aback the lance's point and break the helmet 10

bar;

A noise is on the morning winds, but not the noise of war.

Among the grassy mountain paths the glittering troops increase

feet-they

They come! They come! - How fair their feet

come that publish peace!