Stevens County tribune., 1879-11-20
The Horrors Of Siberian Exile.

Va tuo bIShtLu6uO Vi pOub1ChA 0AAAoS III
Siberia ] have before me thrilling de-
scription from the pen of Mr.. Robert
Lemke, u German writer, who has WIS.,
tied the various penal establishments of
Russia with an official legitimation.
He had been to Tobolsk; after which
he had to make long, dreary journey
in wretched Car, until high mount
ain rose up before him. In its torn
and craggy flank the mountain showed
colossal opening, similar to the mouth
of burnt-out crater. Fetid vapors,
which almost took away his breath, as
cended from it.
Pressing his handkerchief upon his
lips, Mr.. Lemke entered the opening OF
the rock, where he found large watch
house, with picket of Cossacks. Hav-
ing shown his papers he was conducted
by guide through q long, very dark
and narrow corridor, which, Judging
from its sloping descent, led down into
some unknown depth. In spite of his
good fur, the visitor felt extremely cold.
After a walk of some ten minutes
through the dense obscurity, the
ground becoming more and more soft, a
vague simmer of light became OBJ
servable. "We are in the nlinel" said
the guide, pointing with a significant
gesture to the iron cross-bars which
closed the cavern before them.
The massive bars were covered with
thick rust. A watchman appeared,
who unlocked the heavy iron gate.
Entering room of considerable ex-
tent, but which was scarcely mans
height, and which was dimly Lit by an
oil-lamp, the visitor asked: "Where
are we?" In the sleeping-room OF the
condemnedl Formerly it was pro-
ductive gallery of the mine; now it
serves as a shelter"
The visitor shuddered. This subter-
ranean sepulcher, Lit by neither sun nor
moon, was called sleeping room. Al
cove-hke cells were hewn into the rock;
here, on couch of damp, half-rotten
straw, covered with sackcloth, the un-
fortunate sufferers were to repose from
the days work. Over each cell cramp-
iron was fixed, wherewith to lock up the
prisoners like ferocious dogs. No door,
no window anywhere.
Conducted through another passage,
where a few lanterns were placed, and
whose end vas also barred by an iron
gate, Mr.. Lemke came to large vault,
partly lit. This was the mine. A deaf
ening noise of pickaxes and hammers.
There he saw hundreds of wretched
figures, with shaggy boards, sickly faces
redeemed eyeGds; clad in tatters, some
of them barefoot, others in sandals, fet.
tered with heavy foot-chains. Nc song.
no whistling. Now and then they shvly
looked at the visitor and his companion
The water dripped from the stones; the
conyicts were thoroughly wet. One of
them, tall man with suffering mien.
labored hard with gasping breath, but
the strokes of his pickax were not heavy
and firm enough to loosen the rock.
Why are you hereP" Mr.. Lemke
asked.
The convict looked confused, with an
air almost of CONSERVATION, and silently
continued his work.
1T is forbidden to the prisoners
said the inspector, 'to speak of the
cause of their banishmentl
Entombed alive: forbidden to say
whyl
"But who is the convict?" Mr.. Lemke
asked the guide, with low voice.
1T is number 114l" the guide re-
piled, laconically.
"This I see," answered the visitor;
but what are the mans antecedents?
70 what family does he belong?"
"He is Count" replied the guide;
"a wen-known conspirator. More, I re-
gret to say, I cannot tell you about
Number 114!"
The visitor felt as if he were stified
in the grave-like atmoephere-as if his
chest were pressed in by demoniacal
nightmare. He hastily asked his gnide
to return with him to the upper world.
Meeting there the commander of the
military establishment, he was obliging-
ly asked by that officer:
"Well, what impression did our penal
establishment make upon you?"
Mr.. Lemke stifiy bowling in silence,
the officer seemed to take this as kind
OF satisfied assent, and went on:
very industrious people, the men
below; are they not?"
"But with what feelings" Mr.. Lemke
answered, must these unfortunates
look forward to day of rest after a
week of toil?"
"Rest!" said the officer; "convicts
must always labor. There is no rest for
them. They are condemned to perpet-
ual, forced labor; and he who once en-
ters the mine never leaves it'll"
But this Ia barbarousi"
The officer shrugged his shoulders,
and said: "The exile works daily for
twelve hours; On Sundays, too. They
must never rest. But, no; I am mis-
taken. Twice year, though, rest is
permitted them-at Easter time and on
the birthday of his Majesty the EN-
peror. Karl Blind, IN the Co9atempO-
TGTy RevieaU.
PRESIDENT LINCOLN used to say that
Charles Sumner was just his idea OF
Bishop.
Tossing upon q Red OF Agony,
Tortured in every joint with inflammatory
rheumatism, is prospect which may become
melancholy fact if the twinges of the dread
| disorder are not checked at the outset. Per.
or Arl