The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1907-12-19
EXILES
OF THE
CAR

on the banks of the river Lena. The
river just there is narrow, swift AID
gloomy. Miserable huts cling to the
bare rocks as ii terrified at the tur-
ulent stream. The rocks upon the
,posite side rise straight out of
water, and here, If anywhere, the
}. deserves its name of "accursed
.a,,ne," The fogs hang for long il
t... ravine; ii is filed with a chilly
,!t. .npness, and a gray, mournful
-"ihght reigns there almost un-
cuangingly. The inhabitants of the
lIiusky post station are noticeable.
even among the other dwellers on
the banks of the Lena. for their pale
and meager appearance, their lang
uor, their state of hopeless a.
pathy.
/ had arrived at the station on
the preceding night. exhau-ted and
half frozen. Next morning when |
awoke 1t seemed to be still quite
early
Lying in my bed | could see,
through a chink In the partition,
into the room on the other side.
There was table with a lamp lpon
II, and at the table was sitting an
old man. He had rather a handsome
face, but its color was of a disagree
able pallor and unhealthiness, and
his eyes seemed very dim.
Near the old man sat little ! y
of some eight years of age. was
only able to see his bowed head,
with its downy faXen hair. The old
man was peering through his glasses
with his dull eyes. and was 5inting
to the lines of book lying upon the
table. The boy with strained atten-
ton was spelling out the words. let
ter by letter When he stumbled,
the old man set him right with gen.
tie patience.
I'm in, gale gale"
The boy stopped short The un-
known word was evidently too much
for him. The old man came to his
help.
"Night-in-gale"-he read.
Nightingale" carefully re-
peated the pupil. and lifting doubt
All W bS1SASi ldNt, lie III
CURED:
-gale-what is that?"
A bird"-replied The old man.
"A bird" and the less
on continued:
"The nightingale sat sat On on.
''e CHI, the CHER. on the cherry
.e."
What's that?" again inquired ,he
en- passive voice of the child.
''On the cherry tree. It's tree
.ae bird was sitting on the tree"
Sitting? What for? Was he
big bird?"
"a tiny one. He sings WELL"
Sings well?"
The boy ceased to read and be-
came thoughtful. 1t was very silent
IL the hut; only the ticking Of the
pendulum was heapd. outside the
window the mist was drifting by in
clouds. What pitiful childho id
thought involuntarily at the sound of
the monotonous childish voice
without the song of the nightingale,
without the budding spring! Moth
ing but water, and stone to block out
the sight of Gods free world. For
birds-perhaps a solitary raven; for
trees-the barren larch, or a rare
pine.
The boy read another sentence in
the same dull uncomprehending
tone. then suddenly stopped:
But, grandfather, he asked, isn't
It time yet? Look at the clock" In
his voice was now a living, a. agi-
tated note, and his eyes frightened
until they shone in the lamplight.
as he gazed eagerly into his grand
fathers face.
The old man looked at the clock.
Dress quietly" he whispered
The boy applied himself to his
dressing in eager haste, and soon
both hgures-grandfather and
grandchid-passed out through the
dusk Of the room.
arose in my turn, and resolved
to discover what had called them
from the hut into the cold and fog
without. | had slept in my clothes.
and it did not take me long to put
On my boots and oyercoat and to
leave the hut.
had not far to go. Both the old
man and the child were standing on
the step, their hands buried in their
sleeves They were evidently await
ing something.
The surroundings seemed to me
now even more forbidding than they
had appeared from the window. The
mists clinging to the crevices of the
mountains We're now only long feecy
ribbons, but below everything was
still buried in the dark wet fog. The
cold morning wind, driving me re-
mains of the night fog before It,
folded the shivering watchers on he
steps for an instant in its icy en-
brace then angrily hurried on fur
ther. Everything looked dismal and
Ioiaptah