Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1879-12-27
THE EVENING STAR.
DOUBLE SHEET.
THE GUNMAKER OF MOSCOW
TALE OF
THE EMPIRE UNDER PETER THE GREAT.
CHAPTER I.
VHdf I En- L.
TIE GCNMAXER AND THE MONK.

l CHATTER 1.
TIE GCNMAXER AND THE MONK.
/ The time at which we open our story is mid
winter, and towards the close OF the seventeenth
! century. Russia had passed through the long
yase had been worn till the very Bones Of the
nation were CALLED; and when this was thrown
of civil discussions and insurrections COM
meneed. The Poles and SwedeS plundered the
country, and arid general tumult and confu-
sion some half dozen men were clamoring for
| the throne. At length few patriotic citizens,
pledgtns everything they held dear on earth to
| the cause Of freedom from this curse of anarchy
and headed by nobte prince and an humble,
patriotic butcher, made bold stand to save the
country. MOSCOW was retaken, and Michael
Romanof was chosen Gar; and this illustrieus
family still occupies the imperial throne And
now the day OF Russian greatness dawned; but
the sun was not fairly up-Jhe broad light
| to the throne.
In the department of the sloboda-the suburbs
OF Mosc0w-and very near the river Moskwa,
stood an humble cot, the exterior OF which be-
trayed neatneSS OF arrangement and show of
/ taste that more than made up for its smallness
/ OF size. Nor was 1t so very small, in fact but
only in contrast: for near at hand about IL stood
many large, shabby, dirty-l0oktng structures
that overlooked the prim cot, as bleak noun
| tains may look down upon veraant hill. And
within, this cot was as neat as without. The
two apartments iH front, one of which was only
| used In winter. were furnished not only with
neatness, but with a fair show of ornament and
| luxury. Back of these were a large cooking
and dining room, and two small bedrooms; and
~,
| other out-buildings This shop was devoted to
| the manufacture of firearms mostly. Some
swords, and other edged weapons, were made
The gunmaker now stood by his forge. watch
Ing the white smoke as 1t curled up towards the
throat Of the chimney. He, he was young man,
| frame of more than ordinary symmetry and
muse ular development. He was not large-Rot
above medium ske-but single glance at the
stnewy 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 his 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, brilliant deep gray In color
| His name was Rur1c Newell. His father had been
killed in the then late war with the Turks, and
| the son, leaving his mother with sufficiency Of
sustenance, went to Spain soon after the bereave
| ment. 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 gunmaker for the pur-
| were darker than his masters, and If he pos
sessed not so much sound intellect, he did surely
possess an unwonted degree of keen, quick wit
and principle OF answering integrity.
The sun had been some time below the hori-
| Zon, 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 bellows. Suddenly
broke from the deep reverte into which he had
| fallen, and having babe his boy to see that mat
tiers were all properly disposed for the night, he
turned towards the door, and was soon In the
| kitchen, where his mother had supper all pre-
| pared and set out.
Claudia Newell was a noble-looking woman,
and the light of her still handsome eountenance
| was never brighter than when gazing upon her
| boy. She had seen the SHOWS OF fifty winters,
and II they had left some silver upon her head,
and some age-marks upon her face, the sun
| shine OF as many summers had left her with a
thankful, loving heart, and prayelful, hopeful
| soul.
at is showing again, faster than ever" re-
| marked Paul, as he took his seat at the table.
"Ah," returned Ruric, resting his knife a few
moments while he bent his ear to listen to the
voice Of the storm, II had hoped 'twould snow
enough now. And how 1t blows!'
"Never mind" spoke the dame, in trustful,
easy tone, 1T must storm when It iisteth, and
| and pray for those who have none"
"Amen!" responded Ruric, fervently.
After this the trio remained some minutes
silent, st eming to be busy in listening to the
storm-notes that came pealing about the cot.
dashing upon the windows H with dreary, mel
and the table set back, and shortly afterwards
Paul retired to his bed. 1t was his wont to retire
prepare for the lat o.s OF the day.
Ruric drew his chair close up to the fireplace,
and leaning against the jam he bowed his head
and pondered again; This had become a. habit
during whole hour without speaking, or even
moving, and his mother did not interrupt him,
she ne oe s9vng b
But these fits Of thought had become too fire.
quent, too lengthy, and too moody for such
sh ana the good WAS
more remote than the business of the forge or
the lathe. The youth now sat with his brow
resting upon his hand, and bis eyes bent upon
| the heal til. For half an hour he had not moved
and his face wore an anxious troubled look.
"Ruric, my son. spoke the mother. at length,
In low, kind tone, what is 1t that occupies
The young. man started and turned his gaze
upon his mother.
:" Did you speak to me, mother" he asked
| him,
"Yes, my boy" she said. 81 did speak you
1 Ss,s ed you what it was that occupied YOU
AS She spoke thus she moved her seat close u
where Ruric sat, and placed her band upon hi
arr.
"Tell NE, my boy she added, in a low, per
suasive tone, what 1t is that dwells thus upol
your mind"
Rurfc reached out and took his mothers hand
ana h ss gazed Tor some moments into he
Twas thtnking-and 1 have been thinking
much Of late, my mother-of-of-Rosalinl
| FalCaL"
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
thotght7" she asked, TREMENDOUSLY.
"What, but Of one thing could think. my
| mother? You have seen her2'
| 'sYes, Ruric.'
"And you have marked the grace-the love
liness-the SURPRISING beauty OF the nobl.
| grill"
81 know she is beautiful, my son; and alst
| that she Is gOcd-at least SO think"
| "Then what but love could move me will
deep thought of her? Oh, my mother, do Low,
her. I love her with the whole strength Of my
"Alas, my Ruric, she will never dare lovt
| thee"
"You know not that" the youth quickly re
Piled, his eyes burning deeply, and his oper
brow flushing. Ibid not know she loved me
be sure would never have allowed my thoughts
such range. We were children together, anG
| even then we loved Fate has dealt differently
by us in the years that have passed since those
childhood times; but yet am sure her love for
me Is not changed, save as increasing age must
change all the emotions Of our natures into
deeper, stron ger lights and shaaseea"
But think, my boy: You, a mere artisan:
she, the offspring OF nobility and the ward of
| duke-a stern, cold proud aristocrat, who
! looks upon people of our station only as harsh
| masters look upon their beasts of burden. I
fear you will find little else but misery in such
| course of thought"