Centre Democrat. [volume] (Bellefonte, Pa.) 1848-1989, 1881-09-01

group gathered about its door. Turn.
ing to some one of his atten| |,ants he in
auired who this peasant might be. On
learning his name he : At once exclaimed:
"a Pole" and rode up to the cot
tage.
"Look 20, You Polish varlet," com
mencec the count, "my steward tells
ne you are domiciled here. See you
pay your rent, or I'll have ye turned
out to seek a shelter elsewhere"
"Most noble count, my crops have
been ruined by the late Storm" replied
Stanislaus in broken Russian, "and-"
"Thats not my fault. You Poles
come to our country expecting us to
supply you with food, shelter and
clothing; but I'll have none of this on
my estates. So pay your rent or go
you shall !" and with cut of his whip
at Stanislaus he led the party onward
to the chase.
This interview had robbed poor Stan
islaus .of all hope. Despair stared him
in the face, and he stood gazing after
the count, pale with rage, and agonized
on account flhis wife.and little ones.
Courses on that proud and naughty
lord -
Hush, moi kochany," exclaimed
Bugomila. Remember, the lip that
curses shall want bread ("
Wiping tear from his cheek he re-
turned to the deserted table, and bury
ing his face in his hands gave vent to
his tears. Bugomila strove to console
him, but she could point to no hope.
She could devise no means whereby TO
extricate him from his gathering embar-
rassmcnt.
"What are twenty rubles to him
He spends more money every day in
one meal at his castle, and yet he str
me, and threatened to cast me, you and
our little ones, upon the wide world,
penniless, and without a home"
"God is just r. calculated Bugomila
and crossed herself.
"Niech bedzic pochwalony |" MAY
God be praised) responded Stanislaus.
"If God be just and kind" he contin-
ued, "why do we suffer? We are good
and say our prayers night and morning;
we bear all without complaint, and yet
these wicked lords have no care, no
wants. They wallow in wealth and sin,
and forget the needy"
"True, true !" responded Bugomila,
suddenly rising from her seat. "Per-
haps, isolated as we are, God has for.
gotten US"
"He cannot have heard our prayers,
or He would have softened our sorrows
aud supplied our wants, Bugomila."
"Then, moi kochany, let us make
our situation known to Him"
"How can we do thaty'
"Writc to Him, Stanislaus.'
II can't write, you know, Bugomila. 3"
Get some one to write for YOU"
"Who can write? And these Rus
SLAMS would never write to aid us. They
like to see rs suffer"
"Some pleasant dag, Stanislaus, We
will walk to Donashof Hill, and raise
our voices from its summit at MONDAY,
and God will hear rs then
With this determination Bugomila
commenced the daily household duties,
and Stanislaus went to the fields to
ascertain the full extent Of his losses.
The day had become dismal. The
sky of the morning was overcast. and
threatened another storm. The night
was dark and gloomy, and the little
family were gathered around their fru-
gal board, with only sufficient food to
stay the cravings Of their appetites,
when some one knocked az the door.
"Moj boze kochany!" (My dear God
A common exclamation among the Rus
siansl, calculated Bugomila, as she
looked with fear at Stanislaus. They
dreaded second visit from the count.
and it was not until the knock had been
repeated that the door was opened.
"Dobry wicozor" lgood-cvening), said
the stranger, rs he entered.
The sound of their native tongue
cheered the hearts OF the cottauers.
They welcomed their guest heartily,
and, with apologies for SO scanty ro
past, offered him all theirhumble dwell
ing afforded. The stranger seated him
self and ate with a sharp appetite. He
was clad in garments that had seen bet
ter days, but which hal oyide ntly been
made for him. He was we'll booted.
and the dust on his garments showed he
had travelled far.