Waterbury evening Democrat. [volume] (Waterbury, Conn.) 1887-1895, 1893-10-20

ton of picking quarreE-of impartinR to
him something of the vindictiye misery
felt Seeing my condition. he made me sit
down, and having lit pipe seated himself
In the chair opposite and chatted about the
friends who Were gone, as though 1t were
the most natural thing in the world to en-
ter into genial conversation at that hour.
Little by little he led up to my occupa-
tion during the evening. and after bringing
me by my own confession to see how child
ishly selfish, weak and inconsistency fool
ish my jealousy was he drew tears of re-
gret and shame into my eyes by sympa-
thetic word and then inspired me with the
consoling hope that my own self esteem
would save me from any renewal Of this
humiliation. A second handkerchief,
scarcely crumpled and laid away in tri-
umph after hard struggle with myself,
shows that | profited by this lesson later
on when the friends met again. Indeed
my temper was every day growing more
amenable to reason, and grew drawer and
1 hope better under the gentle. humaniz-
ing influences which my dear friend con.
stantly brought to bear upon me.
A day spent in the beautiful country be-
You'd Working Is chronicled in this bunch of
withered flowers. This was fresh revela-
ton to me, for with the exception of nv
memorable wandering TO Greenwich had
never been out of London. 1t was in the
first week of June. My establishment be-
gan soon after we passed Chaplain and in
creased as the houses grew fewer and the
expanse of country wider, and could not
help bursting out into ordinations of de-
light now and then.
Taras caught my enthusiasm anu was rs
ready as l to point out any fresh aspect.
When we were fairly In the country and
away from the station and people, felt
that must sing OF run or cry to give vent
to my exuberant emotion. 1t seemed as if
Taras and were one-I saw with his eyes,
heard with his ears, and in my heart was
sentiment of pure, ineffable love and divine
tenderness which belonged more to his ma
ture than to mine. He picked these flowers
for me; strewed them on my pillow and
pressed my burning face on their cool petals
when lay down that night.
One more extract from this odd collection
shall close the list. 1t is n collection of
paintings by Prince Borgensky, exhibited
at the Modern gallery in Bond street /
had often heard the word 'nihilism" and
''nihilist" spoken in Lambeth, and one
morning when we were walking in the
park-we never failed to go out for an hour
or two before lunch-1 asked Taras to tell
ME what nihilist was.
"a Russian nihilist,' said he, sis man
who desires freedom for his country such
as we enjoy here in England, if we can get
it. But he would be quite content with
less"
Are you nihilists" said 1.
He nodded.
Have you always been nihilistE l
asked.
NO; was once serrant-I might al
most say a friend-of the car, who is now
my enemy"
what made you become nihilisty"
He reflected longer than he usually did
before replying to my questions and then
said:
II will show you, Aura" and turning
from the path he led me across the park
and over Piccadilly into Bond street. There
we entered n large gallery which was al
ready crowded with well dressed people.
The walls We're covered with pictures. l
may say without eNagGeration that there
were hundreds of paintings. There were
some large ones representing battle scenes,
and others quite small, for the most part
portraits, but the greater number, and those
which attracted most attention, illustrated
prison and exile life in Russia and scenes
relating to the march of prisoners into ST.
IBERIA. The misery of this awful march,
the attendant horrors of the etapes, where
men and women, old and young. where the
habitual criminal and the tenderly nurtured
girl, condemned without trial by the ad-
ministrative process, were herded together
in loathsOme garments without regard to
decency or health and with less care for
their preservation than would be bestowed
upon cattle, were shown in such vivid real
ity that one turned with a feeling of sick
ness from the canvas, as if the reek of pol
luton and disease steamed from them.
This is what made me nihilist d" Taras
said in a low voice.
You have seen all thist" l asked.
He nodded.
y plethoric young man with long hair
was passing Judgment on the picture in the
loud tone of conceit.
"Vigor, grant YOU" he said. But the
thing Is overdone. The effect he aims as
Is spoiled by exaggeration. Borgensky mag
be rabid nihilist, but it is equally clear
that he Is making capital out of political
boom; in fact"-he added in a confidential
tone-"he almost admitted the fact when 1
taxed him with it here the other day"
THAT is not true said Taras, raising his
voice.
The knot of admirers about the stout
young dilettante turned round, and the
youth himself, scanning Taras from head
to foot, said, with impudent contempt:
Beg pardon, may l ask who you arey"
'If you were not liar replied Taras,
you would know that am Prince Bor-
gensky."
1t was in this way that came to know
who Taras was