Connecticut western news., 1893-11-02
A LUCKY RUSSIAN.

A LUCkY RUSSIAN.
 In the heart of the Ural mountains, which divide Siberia from Russia, stand the largest sheet iron works in the uni verse. Owned and managed by the Rus sian government, they constitute an en- tire city and are fortified like fort against the rest of the world.
 Russian sheet iron, as every one knows, is the strongest and best pro- duced by any nation, and the process of its manufacture is jealously guarded by the authorities. One who enters the service of the company never again sees the outside world. He gives up every thing-freedom, family, friends, all for the sum of few pitiful rubles 8 month delivered where he chooses. He Is there in the works, but he might as well be in his grave. Not word can be obtained concerning him, and should he live 20 years after entering the service or die the next day not even his family would be the wiser, unless the stoppage of the monthly stipend revealed the fate of the man. Once in awhile one tries to es- cape; not often, however, for they are always caught and always shot-as a warning to others-for the attempted x treachery.
 It was crisp October night in the lit tie village of Obvinsk, about 200 miles from the great iron works. The weather was sharp, the trees and vegetation turned to reddish brown-al but the Hchens and mosses, which seemed to crouch into the very powders in their effort to shield themselves from the keen wind, sweeping knifehke from the snow covered Ural.
 Petrof Norvitsld entered his poor hut as his wife Kartina placed their scant supper of dry bread and potatoes on the little fir table. on which fickered and dared a bit of candle end stuck in gourd for candlestick.
 "I am tired through, wife," said he, land will go to bed, but cheer up before go; sunshine Is always back of the clouds. True, the crops have failed and can get no work, but the Blessed Vir- gin will surely see us through the win ter"
 And with tender kiss to wife and babies Petrof sought the rest he so much needed. He shut his eyes, but not to sleep, and only to turn over and over in his fevered brain the probability of see ing his family starve and freeze. He was brighter, more hopeful, when he rose next morning, but any one could have seen that his cheerfulness was mostly assumed. Eating his breakfast -one potato again-Petroff kissed the babies more tenderly than usual, and evading his wife's questions as to where he was going he bade her keep up her heart and once more left the house. But once out of sight of her eyes he flung himself down by the roadside, and, strong man as he was, he bowed his head in his hands and sobbed like child. But Petrof was a sturdy fellow, and after few moment given to uncontrol- liable grief he wiped away his tears and strode down the highway. From time to time he begged a bit of bread from a passing serf, and when nightfall settled over the valley crawled into a thicket and sunk into heavy sleep. The sun was peeping bold and brassy over the Ural mountains before he awoke and stiff and sore began again his tramp to- ward the iron works. It had crossed the meridian, the shadows were lengthen. ing, and still not morsel of food had passed his lips this day, every one of whom he had begged bite needing ii | for their own uses.
 Suddenly to. the right @ gunshot sounded, and ptarmigan fell within | reach.
 1 "A providence for mer' cried Petrof l joyously seizing and thrusting it under his jacket and looking about him te make sure that the sportsman had miss ed the effect of his shot. As soon as he dared he stopped. made fire and cook | ed the bird, and though he ate 1t with out bread or salt it gave him strength to keep his way. Sleeping in the night air had stiffened and made his bones ache, 80 he had decided that he would not again try the thicket if he could helI it, and as night had come on dark and murky he began to look about him fol a place of shelter. He was then, though he did not know it, passing the estate ol the celebrated Comte Romanof.
 Looming through the darkness stoot the great turreted castle with its battle mented walls and close by the highway barn, into which Petrof slipped through an open window and stretched himself on the sweet smelling hay, hi, troubles for the time forgotten in slum Der.
 It was pitch dark and close on to mid night when the sound of voices Souset him-suppressed voices talking in eau tious tones, which at once awakened hi suspicious. He lay still and listened.
 But this isn't the stable," voice a the door murmured complainingly.
 No, devil take it," replied another T took the wrong turn; the stables ar, back of the castle. Come on. Get thre, of the best horses and bring them to tn, gate by the lodge, tidy addition, yo, know, to the ransom we will get for th' capture of Romanoff. It is 12 o'clock now We must be at the rendezvous by Hurry; we have no time to lose here" | Norvitski lay still till the sound of thei
 footsteps died in the distance. Then
 arose and dropped from the window |
 which he had entered, hurried to tI
 castle and rattled the knocker vigorou
 ly. A servant responded and inquire
 what was wanted.
 Your master, i" said Petroff. T mu
 see him at once."
 Return tomorrow" said the mar
 1.-The comte's abed, Intrigued by hun
 ing"
 II must see him now, tell you," P
 tro6 persisted. Ut is life or deathl G, ' a. r 1Ad vo,,