Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1891-06-13

Are you Mr.. Simpson, the architect Of the
new convict prison of vladivostok?'
bowed eyes" and the three whispered to-
gether moment over paper that the leader
held in his hand
I'VE beg that you will conduct us to that
prison and allow the 'drowski to 90 on and
bring over Maj. Protoplovsk to join u.s. We are
prison officials from Irkutsk. with instructions
10 confer with you as to the progress Of the
! building and the possibility of directing from
lrkntsk q train OF political exiles to eastern
Siberia"
walked back with the officers and intro
duced them to the head governor of the prison.
VINO mad arrived but a few days prior to this
date with small prison garrison. took par
tcular pride in the underground dungeons and
was very minute in my descriptions Of them,
well remember. Upon my return we all went
10 the governors room to await the arrival of
ProtOployski. But he did not come as the win
ter night settled down and became somewhat
uneasy. as well as the others apparently for
one after another they went to the only little
window and looked out upon the advancing
night and down the long. bleak. snowy road.
As the gloom wrapped the bare room in dark
ness they left me one by one till sat alone
and waited. An hour after this the door
opened violently and n man came in with
lantern and stood in front of me. heard the
sound OF grounding arms in the stone corridor
outside and the murmur Of sudden voices.
This one struck me roughly on my shoulder
and said, Follow me- SIR"
''Where?" asked, land by whose order?r
by order of the governor general Of the
military district Of Irkutsk."
THE CONVICT PRISON.
Well. sir. that was the warrant. and that was
all of it. For nine long, interminable years I
lay in one Of the most inaccessible under
ground dungeons, that my own ingenuity had
planned and executed, solitary prisoner, fast
ened oy an IRON collar and chain to the WALL
waiting death. never, but twice had a visitor
In all that wretched life. The first came but a
Few days after my confinement; the door of NV
cell was opened gently and four men stood at
4 IT'S entrance. They were all dressed alike-in
the long howing gray coat and round top heavy
/ cap OF the Russian Official. One held with one
hand torch above his head and resting the
other on the shoulder Of a companion pointed
| at me in my chains.
Yes. said this one, ''that is the mantle
architect simpson"
recognized my friend then-Maior Protop-
lovski- never saw him again
/ seven long years before any one, other than
! my jailor, pushed aside my door
fears. SIR, that make my blood tingle at the
thought; years, sir, that the iron upon NV neck
elasped no more closely about my throat nor
cfanked the chains against the damp walls Of
! my cell, than did the spirit Of DESPAIR i'm INV
heart. Little by little / had managed 10 write
VIII my piood upon piece OF linen they had
4
/ upon my wrists my name and birth, and beg
! ging that the news Of my cruel imprisonme5t
might be sent to my family and to the nearest
American consul. This gave secretly 10 NV
second visitor, an English clergyman, who had
been permitted to see me, they thinking that I
was about to die Weeks rolled by into months
and these into two long years, and there came
neither my release nor my death.
DRIVEN IRON THE PRISON.
! One day, it was in the early Siberian winter
there came the sound Of unusual voices outside
my cell and the shutting Of strange feet. Pres
emily flood Of light poured in upon me and
strange people stood about, while one read
! from paper he held in his hands. When that
was done they unloosed my manacles and took
me from my dungeon. Through long narrHw
| corridors my dazed memory could not place
| they pushed me till open court ward was
reached and found myself in q crowd of con-
/ yicts seated on rough wooden benches and eat
| ing black soup from wooden DO wis they held
between their knees From their greater lin
| erty / knew them to be political prisoners.
] There was snow upon the barren grouad and il
was cold, and / had nothing to cover me but
| the rags my long confinement had left upon
my body. bowl was given me, sir, and ate
the soup. That night aud for three days fol-
! lowing ate my soup twice day and sleepino
! beneath one Of the wooden benches prayed
| again for death None came but worse.
| they took me from my convict comrades and
drove me from the prison gates. II seemed a
| dream to me, sir, but I wandered back TO
n a<lk -. k.-k n n