The new dominion. [volume] (Morgantown, W. Va.) 1876-1904, 1878-01-12
OUR STORY TELLER.
THE COOLEST MAN in RUSSIA.
BY DAVID KER.
LSt. Nicholas


I've seen many brave man in nv
time, sure enough" said old Ivan Start
kof, removing his short pipe to puff out
volume of smoke from beneath his
long white mustache. Many and
many a one have l seen; for, thank
Heaven, the children of holy Russia are
never wanting in that way; but all of
them put together wouldn't make one
such man as our old colonel, Count Pa
vel Petrovitch SEVERN. 1t wasn't onlv
that he faced danger like a man,--ail
the others did that,-but he never
seemed to know that there acas any dan
ger at all. 1t was as good as a re-
enforcement of ten battalions to have
him among us in the thick of a fight.
and to see his grand, tall figure drawn
up to its full height, and his firm face
and keen gray eye turned straight upon
the smoke of the enemy's line, as if de-
Tying them to hurt him. And when the
very earth was shaking with the cannon
AIDE, and balls were flying thick as hail,
and the hot, sitting smoke closed us in
like the shadow of death, with flash
and a roar breaking through it every
now and then, and the whole air filed
with the rush of the shot, like the wind
sweeping through a forest in autumn
then Petrovitch would light cigarette
and hum a snatch of q. song, as coolly as
II he were at dinner-party in the En-
glish Club at Moscow. And it really
seemed as if the bullets ran away from
him, instead of his running from them i:
Tor he never got hit. But if he saw any
OF us beginning to waver, he would call
out cheerily: Never fear, lads-re-
member what the song saysv For in
those days we had an old camp-song that
we were fond of singing, and the chorus
of it was this:
Then fear not swords that brightly shine,
Nor towers that grimly frown:
For God shall march before our line
And tread our foemen down.
He said this so often, that at last he
got the nickname among us of Ne
Boisya Don't fear), and he deserved it.
If ever man did yet. Why, Father Nj
kolai Pavlovitch himself (the Emperor
Nicholas) gave him the Cross of St.
George with his own hand 1.-THE St.
George from the Emperor's own hand
think of that y at the siege of Varna. in
the year %. You see, our battery had
been terribly cut up by the Turkish fire
SO at last there were only about half a
dozen OF us left ON our feet. It was as
hot work as ever was in,-shot peltinp.
earth-works crumbling, gabions crash
ing, guns and gun carriages tumblinp
over together, men falling on every side
like leaves, till, all at once, a shot went
slap through our flagstaff, and down
came the colorsl
Quick as lightning, Pavel Petrovitcb
was up on the parapet, caught the flag
at 1t tell, and held it, right in the face Of
all the Turkish guns, while I and another
man spl ced the pole with our belts.
You may think how the unbelievers let
fly at him when they saw him standing
there on the top of the breastwork. lust
as II he'd been set up for a mark: and
all at once L saw one fellow IAN Alba
man by his dress, and you know what
deadly shots they are) creep along to the
very angle of the wall, and take steady
aim at himl
l made spring to drag the colonel
down q was his servant, you know. and
whoever hurt him hurt me) but before
could reach him / saw the flash of the
Aibanian's piece, and Pavel Petrovitch's
cap went spinning into the air. with a
hole right through it just above the fore
head. And what do you think the colo
mel DID Why, he just snapped his fin
gers at the fellow, and called out to him
in some jibber-jabber tongue only fit to
. talk to Turk in: ~ ~
Can't you aim better than that Won
TOOL? Ii were your officer. I'd give
you thirty lashes for wasting the govern
ment ammunition
Well, as said, he got the St. GEORGE
and OF course everybody congratulated
him, and there was great sbaking Of
hands, and giving of good wishes. and
drinking his health in mario foIai--
that's horrid mess of eggs, and scraped
cheese, and sour milk, and Moldayian
wine, which these Danube fellows have
the impudence to call black tea as If
IT was anything like the good old tea
that we Russians drink at homel owe
always thought, for my part, that tea
ought to grow in Russia; for it's shame