The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1893-10-28
Select Sturp.
NIGHT IN RUSSIA.
From the London Telegraph.

red.-huSSlan HrOyerD.
II was a university man, gospodeen (sir),
and an officer in the guards, too-God's my
witness before took to skulking at street
corners without copper copeck to pay for
nights shelter. 1t is a true saying,
Let no man ever seorn the beggar's KNAPP
sack nor the convicts cell, nor spit in the
well he may have to drink from.
These words, issued from heap Of
blackness darker than the dusky back
ground of the dead wall close to which it
covered, brought me to standstill at the
corner of lonely street in Kiey, the moth
er of Russian cities. | don't know exactly
why l stopped to listen, for was never
before in less charitable mood than on
that wild winters night The frost would
have frozen up the milk Of human kind
ness in the breast of saint and made a
stole morose and selfish. Although but a
few minutes past 8, the streets were as
deserted as at midnight, and the few strag-
glers still abroad were foundering help
lessly about in the deep snow, the sharp
prickly particles of which were being well
rubbed into their faces and ears by an icy
wind violent enough to root up the paving
stones and sharp enough to shave new
laid egg.
Heavens, what wind An English
northeaster is gentle zephyr to it. And
the air was cold enough in all conscience
to dispense with the Fictitious aid of wind,
for when the mercury sinks away till it
has put As degrees between its resting
place and freezing point, rely upon it,
circulation is going on under sufficiently
serious difficulties. But the storm made
the air feel fully 20 degrees colder. The
frost penetrating the body like shot from
Manlicher regulation rife, you had no
time to shiver or shudder, but your heart
began to futter like bird beating its
wings against the cage bars, and your
teeth were set firmly as in lockjaw. Then
you remembered the sins of your youth and
meditated upon death.
That is how l felt, although physically
enveloped from head to foot in warm
fur shooba (mantle), in which my own
mother would not have recognized her son.
Moreover, l was in peevish, diseOntented
frame of mind Everything had gone
agley with me all that day, and l had been
for the past 10 minutes keeping one eye
half open in hopes of sighting stray sleigh
to take me away from the scene of my
tribulation, but there was not vehicle of
any kind within hail. The hills and hol-
lows of slippery snow that beset my path
had also tried my temper.
had twice measured my full length on
the ground, getting the snow down my
new maximum thermometer in my efforts
to rise, while the wind made my cheeks
and eyelids ache, numbed my nose, till in
sheer self defense had to rub it briskly
with snow, and continually blew my shooba
wide open, threatening me with infamma-
ton of the lungs and consumption. l
could have punished that wind as X erxes
punished the waves, if only had slaves
to do my bidding, and failing that | could
have sat down where | was and cried with
rage and vexation, but | have always been
opposed to suicide on principle.
Such we're the circumstances under
which was suddenly confronted by a lazy
hulk of a fellow who, for aught l knew,
might follow up his appeal for aims by the
magic assurance that he had nothing In the
world to call his own but single revolver
and few miserable cartridges with which
it was loaded. Beggars in Russia are as
plentiful as blackberries, as persuasive as
Irish lawyers and sometimes as desperate as
highwaymen. A years experience of their
ways, without exactly turning yoH into an
unfeeling oynic, develops a thin crust of
ice around your heart which it needs some
thing more than the fire of everyday elo-
quence to thaw.
"Why don't you work like an honest
man ?" asked, uncertain what to say.
aWork p he replied, interrogating,
aWork" bitterly. "Fobies are dressed
in shoobas, as they ought to be this time
of the year. Who'll give work to the out
cast-to the jetsam and Aotsam of a
rotten society," I've fallen to the very
bottom of the social staircase-the next
step is the grave, and shan't have very
long to wait for that now. Night is as
good season for death as day, and frost
not more painful than hunger. May God
requite you for your kindness, gospodeen.
Good night"
"Stop moment" | exclaimed, desper-
ately working my way toward the receding
bundle of darkness. aYou have willfully
misunderstood me and insulted me to boot,
and you should be the last man to dolhat.
For the wolf there's hunger; for the fox
tOothsome morsels, says the proyerb,
What I meant to say was that If yop were
telling me the truth and really desired to
become honest and Industrious again, l
wonId at once--h'm--thatis is. could--hm