Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1871-10-18
THE THREE MASKED MEN.

river pointing to few spots OF light that
along the darkenlng skyline and
vel be there IN another quarter OF ar hour
I 1t please heaven. Lucky Tor US that IT'S
rot winter'tlme' or wed have the gray-coats' |
wolyes) at our heels before we got IN.
" Are there many OF them about here IN
winter Y ask l.
" Many OF them A great deal too many /
Why, 1t was only last winter, he goes on
With genuinely Russian love OF frightening
himself and other people " that sledge
'ame into the village, which had been attack
ID by wolves close to where we are now, on
lark windy evening Just like this onei and
hey gobbled up the driver and the horses,
md everything but the sledgo itsoli-and that
was good deal scratched"
But If they ate up the horses, how did
the sledge get to the village ~
All. BARN :" answers the old rogue with
a chuekle, that's not my affair
Our days work has been long and hard
one, as may be seen by the smoking hanks and
quiyering nostriIs Of our horses, and the coun-
try through which We have passed is not such
as one loves to linger over. Picturesqueness,
in the ordinary sense Of the word, Is sadly
wanting to Russia proper. All her best scene-
ry is to be found in regions lately wrested
from other Powcrs-Finland, the Caucasus,
the Crimea. Nor is the monotony Of her
boundless plains diversified by that abundance
Of life which relieves the iiatnoss Of Holland
and the Netherlands. Siberia is peopled at
the rate Of one inhabitant to three square
miles. The vast prairies Of Central Russia
are little if at all more populous. The new
railway from kiey to Balta runs for at least
half its length through a chaos Of uncleared
forest The banks Of the Nolga, for leagues
together, are silent and desolate as those Of
the Amazon. Along the whole course Of the
Lower Don, from kalateh to within few
hours sail OF kostoy, there Is not a single
town-hardly even a village worth calling
such-to break the monotony of the voleeess
solitudes through which 1t flows And even
upon the famous black SOIL every spadetul
OF which Is worth kings ransom, one may
travel Tor days without seeing human habl-
tation except stray lquor-shop, or meeting
a human being except an occasional robber.
And yet, to those who can appreciate IT.
few sights are more Impressive than what the
Russians expresslvely call, "the bad steppe
"a limited waste OF desolate gray moorland
without warmth, without colorng, without
life, like the corpse OF nature IN her winding
sheet. Nothing which Imagination has con
ceiyed can equal the weird loneliness OF thi'
everlasting desert. The sea Is OF one color
but 1t has boundless lie and notion The
great plain OF the Dnleper' though lacking
life and motion, has all the glories OF earthly
colorlng IN Its measureless wealth OF flowers
The very deserts OF Arabia, grim and barrel
though they De- nave klnd OF deluslye AM
nation IN the dlLzy Malpurglsdance oil theI
wlnd-tossed sands. But IN the dreary waste
OF Eastern Russia all these are wholly want
ing Ihe pad steeppe has no dimpIlng sur
iace' no varied coioring' no waving grass ne
tossing sands to break the endless level
nothing but tremendous passlyity' oloquen
IN us terrible silence against whose gigantl
inactlon all the energies oil man are as noth
ing gray unenalng waste. wrapped IN
sinister ana deauiy stlllhess' IKE some forgot
ten World Diasted oy inc hre OF heaven or
time pegan' ana sun bearing through endies
ages, the brand oil gloomy ana irrevocaDl
uesolauon'
1t IS therefore, not without a ieeling o
natural rehei that l turn my PACK upon IN
great waste tnaI uarAeps Slowly around Us
anu "atch thc lights ol tne village co'nih
nearer anu nearer, t'il AT leug'n we scurry lh
70 tne s,ngle s'ree, "hien II possesses Nalmo'
u1ser'eu au 'nis h1ur' 'nrougu rear oi 'n
Domo'oi anu matt ln front oil iong' 10"
suos'an'ia,'looHiug oo''agsL'he apoue o' tMl M
s'aros'a' OF heau man oi the Niliage' VIII
whom we propose 10 take up our quarters 10
the night' ihere Is no iack OF hospitali'
Spou' tne nussiah peasant anu almost p'
lore my uci'er can eAPiaih VINO We arc
ma inyseii seized py noth hands ana draggee,
INTO the mousse my dusty coat ana Doots pull
eu on ana inyseh seated IN the place OF mono
beside the immense stove, with brimmln
lumber oi tea IN front of me while tl
driver, little further OIL, lights his pipe wit
complacent ar as II he took to hlmse
some credit Tor my being there at ALL
!, Whlle slpplng my tea, and munching tn
black bread wherewith my hosts wife, stou
iresh.looking woman of fye-and.thirty, SUI
f plies the ad libitum, l glance round til
room, which is merely an enlarged and ornt
mented copy OF what L have seen in evel
hamlet on my road. The heavy cross-beau
of the roof, the rough-hewn chairs and t
bles the huge tea-urn-the glt-edged pictu
of a saint in the far corner, with sma
lamp burning before 1.-THE enormous stov
, on the broad fiat top of which my entertai
ers are wont to sleep in winter--the bro,
clumsy bed with its patchwork coverlet, a
all there. And there, too, on the opposi
side Of the room, is the huge painted ches
a barred and banded with iron, which is Il
< Russian peasants pride and glory, in viii,
c he keeps his Sunday clothes, and whatev
v yaluables he may possess, and upon the pain
t inc and decorating Of which he often e
y pepds n sum which il must have cost hi
$ many hard davis work and many a suppo
:, less night to raise.