The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1879-12-27
THE PRESS.
The Gunmaker of Moscow.
4 TALE OF
The Empire Under Peter the Great.
l.
THE GUNMAKER AND THE MONK.

enteenth century. Russia had passed
through the long and bitter ordeal of nation
al Night. The Tartar yoke had been worn
till the very bones of the nation were CALLED;
and when this was thrown off civil dissen-
sions and instructions commenced. The
Poles and SWedes plundered the country,
and amid general tumult and confusion
some half dozen men were clamoring Tor the
throne. At length a few patriotic citizens,
pledging everything they held dear on earth
to the cause Of freedom from this curse OF
anarchy, and headed by noble prince and
an humble, patriotic butcher, made. a bold
stand to save the country. Moscow was re-
taken, and Michael Romanoff was chosen
Gar; and this illustrious family still occu-
pies the imperial throne. And now the day
of Russian greatness dawned; but the sun
was not fairly up-the broad light opened
not upon the empire-until Peter came to
the throne.
In the department of the Sloboda-the
suburbs of Moscow-and very near the
river Moskwa, stood an humble cot the ex-
terror of which betrayed a neatness Of ar
rangement and show of taste ethat more
than made up for its smallness of size. Nor
was it so very small in fact, bat only in con-
trast: for near at hand about it stood many
large, shabby, dirty-looking structures that
overlooked the prim cot as bleak mountains
may look down upon verdant hill And
WllDlU, ILLS GU was do nCdb do NIIhOUt.
The two apartments in front, one Of which
was only used in winter, were furnished not
only with neatness, but with q fair show OF
ornament and luxury. Back of these were
a large cooking and dining room, and two
small bedrooms; and back still from these
was an artisans shop, and other outbuild-
ings This shop was devoted to the manu-
facture of firearms mostly. Some swords
and other edged weapons were made here
on special application.
The gunmaker now stood by his forge,
watching the white smoke as it curled up
towards the throat of the chimney. He was
a Young man, not over three and twenty,
and possessed frame of more than
ordinary symmetry and muscular de-
velopment. He was not large-not above
medium size-but a single glance at the
swelling chest, the broad shoulders, and the
sinewy ridges of the bare arms, told at once
that he was master of great physical power.
His features were regular, yet strongly
marked, and eminently handsome; Lis brow,
which was full and high was half covered
by the light brown curls that waved over it;
while his eyes, which were of bright, brill
liant, deep gray in color, lent acast of genius
to the intellect of the brow. His name was
Rurc Newell. His father had been killed in
the then late war with the Turks, and the
son, leaving his mother with a sufficiency of
sustenance, went to Spain soon after the
bereavement. There he found work in the
most noted armories; and now, well versed
in the trade, he had returned to his native
city to follow his calling and support his
mother.
Near by stood boy-Paul Peepon-a
bright, intelligent lad, some fifteen years of
age who had bound himself to the gunmak-
er for the purpose of learning the art. His.
hair and his eyes were darker than his mas
ter's, and if he possessed not so much sound
intellect, he did surely possess an anwonted
degree of keen quick wit, and principle of
answering integrity.
The sun had been some time below the ho-
rizon, and the only light of any consequence
that made things partially visible within the
shop, came from the dull blaze of the Goals
ON the forge, as Paul ever and anon bore
down upon the brake that moved the bel
lows. Suddenly Ruric started back from the
forge as his mind broke from the deep reve-
ry into which he had fallen, and having
babe his boy to see that matters were all
properly disposed for the night, he turned
toward the door, and was soon in the kitch-
en-, where his mother had supper all pre-
pared and set out
Claudia Newell was q noble-looking woman
and the light Of her still handsome counte-
nance was never brighter than when gazing
upon her boy. She had seen the SHOWS of
fifty Winters, and if they had left some sill
yer upon her head and some age-marks upon
her face, the sunshine of as many Summers
had left her with a thankful, loving heart,
and prayerful, hopeful soul.
SIT is showing again, faster than ever"
remarked Paul, az he took his seat at the
table.
"Ah,'' returned Ruric, resting his knife
few moments while he bent his ear to listen
to the voice of the storm. 81 had hoped
It would snow no more for the present. The
snow is deep enough now. And how it
blowsr'
''Never mind" spoke the dame, in a trust
full, easy tone, sit must storm when it list
eth, al we can only thank God that we
have shelter and pray for those who have
none"
"Amenp'' responded Ruric fervently.
After this the trio remained some minutes
silent, seeming to be busy in listening to the
storm-notes that came pealing about the cot.
The wind was high, and the snow
now came dashing upon the windows with a
dreary, melancholy sound. The meal was
at length eaten, and the table set back, and
shortly afterwards Paul retired to his bed.
1t was his wont to retire early, for he rose
betime to build the fires and prepare for the
labors of the day.
Ruric drew his chair close up to the fire.
place, and, leaning against the jamb, he
bowed his head and pondered again. This
had become habit with him of late. Some
times he would sit thus during whole hour
without speaking, or even moving, and his
mother did not Interrupt him as she supposed
he might be solving some mechanical problem 4
that had arisen to bother him. But these
fits of thought had become too frequent, too
lengthy, and too moody, for such hypothe-
sis, and the good woman was forced to be-
lieve that they were caused by something
more remote than the business Of the forge
or the lathe. The youth now sat with his
brow resting upon his hand, and his eyes
bent upon the hearth. For half an hour he
had not moved, and his face wore an anxi-
Gus, troubled look.
"Ruric, my son. spoke the mother, at
length, in low, kind tone, "what is it that |
occupies your thoughts SO much?"
The young man started and turned his |
gaze upon his mother.
"Did you speak to me, mother?'' he asked,
after having recalled his mind to things about |
him.
eyes, my boy" she said. II did speak to
you. l asked you what it was that occupied |
your thoughts"
AS she spoke thus she moved her seat |
close to where Ruric sat, and placed her |
hand upon his arm.
''Tell me, my boy" she added, in a low,
persuasive tone, ''what is it that dwells thus
upon your mind''
Ruric reached out and took his mothers |
hand, and having gazed for some moments
into her face, he said:
81 was thinking-and 1 have been think
ing much of late, my Observation-Disclosures
lind Valdai.'
Claudia Newell started as she heard that
name, and for the while the color forsook
her cheeks.
'What, my dear boy-what of her have
you thought"' she asked, TREMENDOUSLY.
''What, but of one thing could think, my
mother? You have seen her?"
eyes, Ruric."
"And you have marked the grace-the
loveliness-tho surprising beauty of the no
bic girl?"
II know she is beautiful, my son; and
also that she is good-at least, so think"
Then what but love could move me with
deep thought of her? Oh, my mother, do
love her. Hove her with the whole strength
of my heart and soul"
ALAS, my Ruric, she will never dare love
thee.'
'You know not that" the youth quickly
eplied, his eyes burning deeply, and his
open brow flushing. ''Did 1 not know she