The daily worker., 1927-05-11
Translated from the Russian of A.
NOvikOv-PribOi by Vera and Violet
MitkOvsky.

MitkOvsky.
Dear Friend:-Your second last
letter reached me while l was still
a captain of the first rank, command
ing large dreadnought. That was
about two months before the events
of February. l was then extremely
surprised by your cheerful tone, your
hope of an early end of the war.
Many years have passed since then,
terrible years, shaking Russia to the
very depths of her strongly establish
ed system. Where are our former
friends? Some, the revolution scat
tered like autumn leaves over the
whole world, some frightened off
their warm nests, drag out a miser-
able existence, while others are no
longer among the living and it is long
since a mass was said for their souls.
This made it most pleasant for me
to receive an envelope with a close,
familiar writing. thought you were
dead, and here you are across the
border, safe and we'll This news
caused me great joy. The fate of
your estates, however, was very un-
fortunate.
I remember every corner of them,
every detail. Perhaps it is so indeli-
bly, impressed on my memory because
it was there l first met the Baroness
Won Berman and there first spoke
my love. AS write this letter, she,
my wife, having lived with me for
over thirty years, sits at the table
mending stockings. You would not
recognize her. She is an old woman
now, in every sense of the word, bent,
in a cheap grey dress and spectacles,
one of which is cracked. Sometimes /
look with sadness at the gray hair
hanging in wisps about her wrinkled
face, into her black eyes, once scorch-
ing with their passion and now faded
by tears.
You ask how l live and what l
have experienced during the revolu-
ton.
l shall attempt to answer you in a
long epistle. 1t shall be a sort of
tale in which l shall Intervene my
recent life with "reminiscences of the
past. You know my old habit. like
to record all my more or less vivid
impressions on paper. Before me now
lies thick old notebook. On its
pages is splashed a part of my soul.
Sometimes, out of this material, l
shall write an interesting book. In
what l am sending you now how
ever, you shall see how the unexpect-
ed sometimes breaks into our lives.
At the end Of the civil war | left
the naval service, in which l had
occupied rather important position.
l was begged to remain but refused,
and the age limit saved me from con-
scription. / wished to- live another
life. There began series of at
tempts. First tried the shoe-mak-
ing business, then selling small wares
at the market, and working in a CO.
operative grocery store. All this
failed to satisfy me; only ships and
the water attracted me. At last |
realized my desire; l joined the mer-
chant marine service. My duty was
to fasten the cables of ships coming
into dock. | occupied this position
for two years and was content. Then
| joined the crew of a sail boat on
which | serve as the present time.
The boat is old, needing much repair
to fit it for use. 1t is for sale and
securely docked. Three of us take
turns watching on it, guarding gov
ernment property. My fellow-work-
ers are two old sailors. All our work
consists Of caring for the seals, which
we hand over to each other on sign
ing in the watch-book.
This work is of the easiest kind,
permitting me to rest in body and
soul. In my spare time read con-
temporary literature. Books have
awakened in me a desire to tramp
through all of Russia, to know my
people closer, and TO learn to what
distant point steers our young re-
public.
My salary is about sixty roubles,
but that is not the point. The point
is, that occupying such democratic
position, l can clamor and howl at
this or that injustice and be quite
immune. A sailor is forgiven much.
If l cannot carry the point myself,
! have at my back such a powerful
body as the Seamen's Union. In
spite Of my former calling, that of