Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1889-01-31

are they forced back, but fifty times do they
advance again. Inch by inch do they fight
their way to the entrance of the valley, and
at last they reissue from it, victorious indeed,
but with the loss of five thousand brave men.
! They leave the cursed valley heaped with
the bodies of the slain, both men and horses,
terrible and hideOus sight Here lie the
Kosak and the Tartar, clutching each other
in the last death struggle; there grinning
head has rolled away from its trunk; dying
horses neigh piteOusly as the rabid yulture
! bears down upon them, and everywhere the
! snow has disappeared, melted away by the
j warm blood and the smoking corpses.
| ".
| Slowly and sadly the Attaman prepares to
return homeward with the wreck of his
army. They have cast from their chariots
all the rich spoil they had taken, to make
room for the wounded warriors. They have
! thrown out the gold and silver to rust away
! among the barren rocks, and the rich furs
and silken stuffs lie rotting in the mire. Of
what good is gold or silver to them when
! they have lost the flower of their chivalry?
Can sparkling diamonds or glowing rubies
make up for the blood of the brave?
! But the curse of the valley of misfortune
! seems to pursue them even further, for with
each day their numbers grow less; cold, sick
ness, and famine are all busy at work now
/ ing down fresh victims. The Tartars, though
superior in numbers, do not again dare to APP
proach at close quarters, yet they hover
around in wide circles, their piercing cry,
| like the voice of the wild curlew, forever ir-
ritating the ear, and their poisoned darts still
! finding their way to many brave heart
The Attaman fights CALAMITY against de-
| spair; he watches over the army as father
over his children; he animates and encour-
ages them like brother; he consoles and
! tends them like mother. He thinks and
provides for them like chief, yet he shares
| each hardship and fights like asimple soldier.
His csapka (head covering) is pierced through
and through by the enemy'S darts, and his
| burka Coat hangs ragged from sabre cuts,
| vet his body, as though shielded by magic
! charm, is preserved unscathed.
Only as they draw near the frontier OF
! Ukrania do the Tartars cease haunting their
passage, and are gradually lost to sight In the
wide steppes.
The Attaman, with only three hundred
men remaining, regains his native soil. At
the frontier they meet the first Zaporogue
sentinels, who salute them silently. No
! word is spoken on either side; no news of
the war is asked or given; only the patrol
| hands over to Kunicki parchment, signed
| by the chiefs, ordering him to repair at once
| to Biala-C erkiew, where they sit in council;
! for the Attaman, who is sovereign lord and
master as long as he is in the enemy'S coun-
! try, is bound to submit to the council Of chiefs
! as soon as he has again put foot on his ma
! tive soil.
! There are neither threats nor reproaches
in this document Why, then, does the At
taman feel cold chill run through his veins?
! And why does his gallant chestnut hang its
head and stumble, as though it would fall to
| the ground? The Attaman's horse is saga
| ciOus as human being, and has the instinct
| to feel when misfortune is at hand.
! In all the villages where they pass through
the people crowd to see their Father Alta
man and his brave Kosaks on their passage,
] but when they behold but handful of men,
pale and more like band of spectres, they
| greet them with silent tears instead of songs
of joy, and in place of noisy acclamations
! they wiring their brothers hands in mute af-
| Fiction.
The snow has left the earth and nature is
/ putting on her most smiling garb, the plains
/ are covered with fresh carpet of emerald
| green, from every bough hang snowy bios
! SONS, the air is fragrant with the breath of
! violetS and full of sweet music. But the At
taman gazed not at the green plains nor at
| the flowers, the violet has no perfume for
! him, nor can the song of the lark take the
| sadness from his heart.
! And when they reached Biala-Cerkiew the
popuIace does not come out to greet them,
nor are the bells ringing joyfully. Only one
/ of the chiefs awaits them and conducts the
| tn y-ha tho nai1 ic sit
| In vast hall, with benches ranged around
| it, the gray-haired chieftains are seated
awaiting Kunicki's arrival. They are all
clothed in long sheepskin pelisses, their
heads covered with black cSapkas. In the
center of the room, on table, stands cruel
| fix and book of Gospels ready opened, and
near it waits the blaek-rObed Archimandrite
| (priest)
my lords" says Kunicki, entering the as
sembly, II have come hither to hear your
| bidding"
Father Attaman," answers the most an
cient among the chieftains, "what hast thou
| done with the army of Ukrania? Where
| hast thou left the flower of our KosakS?
| Eight thousand of our bravest men did we
| intrust to thee, and but three hundred hast
thou brought home"
my lords" replies the Attaman, uncover
| ing his head, but holding himself upright
'my heart is stabbed with grief when think
| of the sufferings our soldiers have endured,
! but it swells with pride when l remember
what they have done. Scores of towns and
villages sacked and burned, the inhabitants
| of two provinces cut to pieces-these are our
| deeds. The vast hordes of Tartars, along
with sickness, hunger, and cold, have de-
| stroyed the rest of our army. Such was the
will of the Almighty and my misfortune
| God is my witness, and with Him the three
hundred Kosaks who have returned, that !
have neither spared my arm nor shielded my
breast in their defense"
''Canst thou swear it?" again asked the an
cient chief.
81 will swear 1t on the Gospel" And the
| Archimandrite reading aloud the formula Of
| the oath the Attaman kneels, and kissing the
cross swears by the blood of the Saviour that
| he has spoken the truth, and will relate to
them on his conscience all that has taken
place And rising he details to them from
beginning to end all the events of this dis
astrous campaign. The recital of so much
| misery and misfortune touches every one to
tears, and the chieftains shake their hoary
heads as one after another they withdraw to
the debating-room.
| Kunicki remains alone, his eyes fixed