The Louisiana Democrat. [volume] (Alexandria, La.) 1845-1918, 1872-04-17


along my road. The heavy cross
beams of the roof, the rough-hew
chairs aud tables, the huge tea-urn, the
giltedged picture of a saint in the far
corner, with a small lamp burning be-
fore it; the enormous stove, on the
broad flat top Of which my entertain
ers are wont to sleep in winter; the
broad, clumsy bed, with its patchwork
coverlet, are all here. And there, too,
on the opposite side of the room, is the
old and the huge painted chest, band
ed and barred with iron, which is the
Russian peasants pride and glory, in
which he keeps his Sunday clothes,
and whatever va!uables he may have
and upon the painting and decorating
of which he often expends sum that
it must have cost him many hard
days work and many supperless
night to raise. y
But even III their first hasty survey
of the surroundings, my eyes have time
to remark one object, which is the very
last that one would expect to find un-
der the roof of a Russian peasant, whose
sole weapon is usually the. short axe
with which he chops his fire-wood, puts
together his furniture, builds his log
hut, and occasionally splits the head
of his wife or father. just opposite
where sit, hanging upon a nail in the
wall, is a large pistol, evidently I'M
usedfor ii considerable time, to judge
| from the rust which coverssit. Our
friend, the starosta, following the di-
rection of my glance, gives a signiG-
cant chuckle.
"There's something to look at,
BARN." says he, nodding in the direc
ton of the weapon.
'You don't often see those toys in
our shops, do you?"
"Nell, indeed, brother, it's hardly
the sort of thing one would expect to
see SO far. from the town. Do you
keep it to shoot the "tarakans, (cock-
roaches) with2 2"
My host gives hoarse, believing
laugh, at this not very brilliant joke,
echoed by the shriller treble of his wife;
and crossing the room, takes down the
pistol from its perch, and lays it on
the table. Some letters branded into
the stock catch my eye, and holding it
up to.the light, Tread, "April Id, 1862
look inquiringly ut my entertainer
for the answer to this enigma.
II wrote that" says he with the air
of Coriolanus. "Alone did it. /
can Write, and read, too, OF I shouldn't
be starosta now. All the first time l
wrote my own name felt as grand as
lila MurOmetz !"
The worthy starosta's enthusiasm
somewhat tries my gravity, though
had already seen the same thing once
and again during my travels in the in
terror. The Russian peasants row
erence for the power of "talk ing by
making marks in book" is almost
superstitious, and I recollect being
considerably amused at Overlooking a
rough hewn fellow, with whom l had
lodged in one of the remoter villages,
after reciting to an attentive circle,
my feats in walking, running, climbing
and leaping, wind up with: '"And he
t knows how to write!"
"That was the day that I got this
pistol" pnrsues my Amphitryon
"and good service heidi me on that
day. If it hadn't been for him I should
have lost a good handful of money,
and may had my life into the bargain ~
"Ah! how did that happen, ask 1.
"This is just the time for good story;
suppose you tell me all about it before
l turn in"
Nothing 10th, my host knocks the
ashes out of his pipe, recharges it, and
clearing his throat vigorously begins as
lfOllows: au.a. #4 1-
"You must know then, BARN, that
had a cousin, vasilli Masloff by name,
who instead of sticking to the villages,
as did, was all for getting away to
one of the great towns, thinking to
push his way there, and pick up money,
as you would gather mushrooms in the
woods. And, sure enough, one day
he went off to Moscow; and after a
time, got word that he had managed
to find word in one of the big German
shops on the Kouznetski Most Che was
a famous hand at carving and such
Hike and that he was getting on pretty
well; for as our proverb says. Heaven
helps the helpful man. and Vasilli was
always one to stand ON his own feet.
And after that l had no news of him
for long time, and was beginning to
forget all about him, when, all of q
sudden, there comes to me one day a
big package of bank notes, and q letter
with them, saying that Vasilli was
dead (may he gain the kingdom of
heaven y and had left me all the mon
ey he had saved, some 1900 roubles
or so (about -e260,) which was a great
! windfall to a poor fellow like me-"
'1You should just have seen him