CHAPTER X.

Although Alexis did not expect to find letters from home, as he had returned from his hunting expedition earlier than he anticipated, still, on his arrival at Yakutsk, he went to the office where they were to be deposited, if any had come. To his great joy he there found two letters, and on looking at them, recognised the hand-writing of his father upon one, and that of Kathinka on the other. His heart beat quick, as he hurried home to read them alone; in his room. With mingled feelings of hope and fear--of pleasure that he could thus hold communion with his dearest friends--of pain that he was separated from them by thousands of miles--he broke the seal of that which was superscribed with his father’s hand, and read as follows:

“Tobolsk, ---- 18--.

“My dear Alexis,--I embrace a good opportunity to send you letters, and thus to advise you of the state of things here. You will first desire to know how it is with Kathinka and me. We get on more comfortably than I could have hoped. Your sister excites my admiration every day of her life. She is, in the first place, cheerful under circumstances which might naturally beget gloom in the heart of a young lady, brought up in the centre of fashion, surrounded with every luxury, and accustomed to all the soft speeches that beauty could excite, or flattery devise. She is industrious, though bred up in the habit of doing nothing for herself, and of having her slightest wish attended to by the servants. She is humble, though she has been taught from infancy to remember that aristocratic blood flows in her veins. She is patient, though of a quick and sanguine temper.

“Now, my dear son, it is worthy of serious inquiry, what it is that can produce such a beautiful miracle--that can so transform a frail mortal, and raise a woman almost to the level of angels? You will say it is filial love--filial piety--a daughter’s affection for an unhappy father. But you would thus give only half the answer. The affection of a daughter is, indeed, a lovely thing; it is, among other human feelings, like the rose among flowers--the very queen of the race: but it is still more charming when it is exalted by religion. Kathinka derives from this source an inspiration which exalts her beyond the powers of accident. She has never but one question to ask--‘What is my duty?’--and when the answer is given, her decision is made. And she follows her duty with such a bright gleam about her, as to make all happy who are near. That sour, solemn, martyr-like air, with which some good people do their duty, and which makes them, all the time, very disagreeable, is never to be seen in your sister.

“And, what is strange to tell, her health seems rather to be improved by her activity and her toil; and, what is still more strange, her beauty is actually heightened since she has tasted sorrow and been made acquainted with grief. The calico frock is really more becoming to her than the velvet and gold gown, which she wore at the famous ‘Liberty ball,’ at Warsaw, and which you admired so much.

“All these things are very gratifying; yet they have their drawbacks. In spite of our poverty and retirement, we find it impossible to screen ourselves wholly from society. I am too feeble--too insignificant--to be cared for; but Kathinka is much sought after, and even courted. Krusenstern, the commander of the castle, is exceedingly kind to both her and me; and his lady has been her most munificent patron. She has bought the little tasteful products of Kathinka’s nimble needle, and paid her most amply for them. In this way we are provided with the means of support.

“It galls me to think that I am thus reduced to dependence upon enemies--upon Russians--upon those who are the authors of all my own and my country’s sorrows; but it is best, perhaps, that it should be so--for often the only way in which God can truly soften the hard heart, is to afflict it in that way which is most bitter. Pride must fall, for it is inconsistent with true penitence; it is an idol set up in the heart in opposition to the true God. We must cease to worship the first--we must pull it down from its pedestal, before we can kneel truly and devoutly to the last.

“Kathinka will tell you all the little details of news. I am bad at that, for my memory fails fast: and, my dear boy--I may as well say it frankly, that I think my days are fast drawing to a close. I have no special disease--but it seems to me that my heart beats feebly, and that the last sands of life are near running out. It may be otherwise--yet so I feel. It is for this reason that I have had some reluctance in giving my consent to a plan for your returning home in a Russian vessel, which is offered to you.

“A young Russian officer, a relative of the princess Lodoiska, by the name of Suvarrow, is going to Okotsk, at the western extremity of Siberia, where he will enter a Russian ship of war, that is to be there; he will take command of a corp of marines on board, and will return home in her. Krusenstern has offered you a passage home in her; and as Suvarrow is a fine fellow, and, I suspect, is disposed to become your brother-in-law, if Kathinka will consent--nothing could be more pleasant or beneficial to you. You will see a good deal of the world, learn the manners and customs of various people, at whose harbors you will touch, and make agreeable, and, perhaps, useful acquaintances on board the ship. These are advantages not to be lightly rejected; and, therefore, if you so decide and accept the offer, I shall not oppose your choice. Indeed, the only thing that makes me waver in my advice, is my fear that I shall not live, and that Kathinka will be left here without a protector. And even if this happens, she is well qualified to take care of herself, for she has a vigor and energy only surpassed by her discretion. After all, the voyage from Okotsk to St. Petersburgh, in Russia, is but a year’s sail, though it requires a passage almost quite around the globe. At all events, even if you do not go with Suvarrow, you can hardly get home in less than a year--so that the time of your absence will not constitute a material objection. Therefore, go, if you prefer it.

“I have now said all that is necessary, and I must stop here--for my hand is feeble. Take with you, my dear boy, a father’s blessing--and wherever you are, whether upon the mountain wave, or amid the snows of a Siberian winter, place your trust in Heaven. Farewell. PULTOVA.”

This affecting letter touched Alexis to the quick; the tears ran down his cheeks, and such was his anxiety and gloom, on account of his father’s feelings, that he waited several minutes, before he could secure courage to open the epistle from Kathinka. At last he broke the seal, and, to his great joy, found in it a much more cheerful vein of thought and sentiment. She said her father was feeble, and subject to fits of great depression--but she thought him, on the whole, pretty well, and if not content, at least submissive and tranquil.

She spoke of Suvarrow, and the scheme suggested by her father, and urged it strongly upon Alexis to accept the offer. She presented the subject, indeed, in such a light, that Alexis arose from reading the letter with his mind made up to join Suvarrow, and return in the Russian vessel. He immediately stated the plan to Linsk and his two sons, and, to his great surprise, found them totally opposed to it: They were very fond of Alexis, and it seemed to them like unkind desertion, for him to leave them as proposed. Such was the strength of their feelings, that Alexis abandoned the idea of leaving them, and gave up the project he had adopted. This was, however, but transient. Linsk, who was a reasonable man, though a rough one, after a little reflection, seeing the great advantages that might accrue to his young friend, withdrew his objection, and urged Alexis to follow the advice of his sister.

As no farther difficulties lay in his way, our youthful adventurer made his preparations to join Suvarrow as soon as he should arrive; an event that was expected in a month. This time soon slipped away, in which Alexis had sold a portion of his furs to great advantage. The greater part of the money he sent to his father, as also a share of his furs. A large number of sable skins, of the very finest quality, he directed to Kathinka, taking care to place with them the one which the hermit hunter of the dell had requested might be sent to the princess Lodoiska, at St. Petersburgh. He also wrote a long letter to his sister, detailing his adventures, and dwelling particularly upon that portion which related to the hermit. He specially urged Kathinka to endeavor to have the skin sent as desired; for, though he had not ventured to unroll it, he could not get rid of the impression that it contained something of deep interest to the princess.

At the appointed time, Suvarrow arrived, and as his mission brooked no delay, Alexis set off with him at once. He parted with his humble friends and companions with regret, and even with tears. Expressing the hope, however, of meeting them again, at Tobolsk, after the lapse of two years, he took his leave.

We must allow Linsk and his sons to pursue their plans without further notice at present, only remarking that they made one hunting excursion more into the forest, and then returned to Tobolsk, laden with a rich harvest of valuable furs. Our duty is to follow the fortunes of Alexis, the young sable-hunter.

He found Suvarrow to be a tall young man, of three and twenty, slender in his form, but of great strength and activity. His air was marked with something of pride, and his eye was black and eagle-like; but all this seemed to become a soldier; and Alexis thought him the handsomest fellow he had ever seen. The two were good friends in a short time, and their journey to Okotsk was a pleasant one.

This town is situated upon the border of the sea of Okotsk, and at the northern part. To the west lies Kamschatka--to the south, the islands of Japan. Although there are only fifteen hundred people in the place, yet it carries on an extensive trade in furs. These are brought from Kamschatka, the western part of Siberia, and the north-west coast of America, where the Russians have some settlements.

Alexis found Okotsk a much pleasanter place than he expected. The country around is quite fertile; the town is pleasantly situated on a ridge between the river and the sea, and the houses are very neatly built. Most of the people are either soldiers, or those who are connected with the military establishments; yet there are some merchants, and a good many queer-looking fellows from all the neighboring parts, who come here to sell their furs. Among those of this kind, Alexis saw some short, flat-faced Kamschadales, clothed in bears’ skins, and looking almost like bears walking on their hind legs; Kuriles, people of a yellow skin, from the Kurile Islands, which stretch from Japan to the southern point of Kamschatka; Tartars, with black eyes and yellow skins; and many other people, of strange features, and still stranger attire. He remained at this place for a month, and the time passed away pleasantly enough.

Alexis was a young man who knew very well how to take advantage of circumstances, so as to acquire useful information. Instead of going about with his eyes shut, and his mind in a maze of stupid wonder, he took careful observation of all he saw; and, having pleasant manners, he mixed with the people, and talked with them, and thus picked up a great fund of pleasant knowledge. In this way he found out what kind of a country Kamschatka is; how the people look, and live, and behave. He also became acquainted with the geographical situation of all the countries and islands around the great sea of Okotsk; about the people who inhabited them; about the governments of these countries; their climates, what articles they produced, their trade; the religion, manners and customs of the people.

Now, as I am writing a story, I do not wish to cheat my readers into reading a book of history and geography--but, it is well enough to mix in a little of the useful with the amusing. I will, therefore, say a few words, showing what kind of information Alexis acquired about these far-off regions of which we are speaking.

Kamschatka, you must know, is a long strip of land, very far north, and projecting into the sea, almost a thousand miles from north to south. The southern point is about as far north as Canada, but it is much colder. Near this is a Russian post, called St. Peter’s and St. Paul’s. The Kamschadales are chiefly heathen, who worship strange idols in a foolish way--though a few follow the Greek religion, which has been taught them by the Russians.

The cold and bleak winds that sweep over Siberia, carry their chill to Kamschatka, and, though the sea lies on two sides of it, they make it one of the coldest places in the world. The winter lasts nine months of the year, and no kind of grain can be made to grow upon its soil. But this sterility in the vegetable kingdom is compensated by the abundance of animal life. In no place in the world is there such a quantity of game. The coasts swarm with seals and other marine animals; the rocks are coated with shell-fish; the bays are almost choked with herrings, and the rivers with salmon. Flocks of grouse, woodcocks, wild geese and ducks darken the air. In the woods are bears, beavers, deer, ermines, sables, and other quadrupeds, producing abundance of rich furs. These form the basis of a good deal of trade.

Thus, though the Kamschadales have no bread, or very little, they have abundance of fish, flesh, and fowl. In no part of the world are the people more gluttonously fed. They are, in fact, a very luxurious race, spending a great part of their time in coarse feasting and frolicking. They sell their furs to the Russians, by which they get rum and brandy, and thus obtain the means of intoxication. Many of them are, therefore, sunk to a state of the most brutal degradation.

The Kurile Islands, as I have stated, extend from the southern point of Kamschatka to Jesso, one of the principal of the Japan Isles. They are twenty-four in number, and contain about a thousand inhabitants. The length of the chain is nearly nine hundred miles. Some of them are destitute of people, but most of them abound in seals, sea otters, and other game. The people are heathen, and a wild, savage set.

The Japan Isles lie in a long, curving line, in a southerly direction from Okotsk. They are very numerous, but the largest are Jesso and Niphon. These are the seat of the powerful and famous empire of Japan, which has existed for ages, and has excited nearly as much curiosity and interest as China.

One thing that increases this interest is, that foreigners are carefully excluded from the country, as they are from China. The only place which Europeans are allowed to visit, is Nangasaki, on the island of Ximo. This is a large town, but the place assigned to foreigners is very small; and no persons are permitted to reside here, except some Dutch merchants, through whom all the trade and intercourse with foreigners must be carried on.

The interior of Japan is very populous, there being twenty-six millions of people in the empire. The capital is Jeddo, on the island of Niphon; this is four times as large as New York, there being one million three hundred thousand people there. The lands in the country are said to be finely cultivated, and many of the gardens are very beautiful. The people are very polite, and nearly all can read and write. They have many ingenious arts, and even excel European workmen in certain curious manufactures.

To the east of Japan is the great empire of China, which contains three hundred and forty millions of people--just twenty times as many as all the inhabitants of the United States! I shall have some curious tales to tell of these various countries, in the course of the sable-hunter’s story.

A TRAVELLER, who stopped one night at a hotel in Pennsylvania, rose from his bed to examine the sky, and thrust his head by mistake through the glass window of a closet. “Landlord,” cried the astonished man, “this is very singular weather--the night is as dark as Egypt, and smells very strong of old cheese!”

[Illustration]

Walled Cities.

In ancient times, it was the custom to surround cities with very high walls of stone. This was rendered necessary, by the habit that then prevailed among nations, of making war upon each other. We, who live so peaceably, can hardly conceive of the state of things that existed in former ages. It is only by reading history, that we become informed of what appears to have been the fact, that in all countries, until within a late period, war has been the great game of nations.

As the people of ancient cities were constantly exposed to the attack of enemies, the only way to obtain security was to encircle themselves with high and strong walls. Sometimes these were of vast height and thickness. We are told that Thebes, a city of Egypt--the mighty ruins of which still astonish the traveller who passes that way--had a hundred gates. It is said that the walls of Babylon were near fifty feet high.

Most of the cities of Asia are still encircled with walls, and many of the cities of Europe also. London, Edinburgh, and Dublin, have none: Paris had only a small wall till lately--but the king is now engaged in building one around the city, of great strength. Rome, Vienna, St. Petersburgh, Berlin, and Amsterdam are walled cities.

Bells.

Bells are made of a mixture of about three parts of copper to one of tin, and sometimes a portion of silver, according to the shape and size the bell is to be. They are cast in moulds of sand--the melted metal being poured into them.

The parts of a bell are--its body, or barrel; the clapper, within side; and the links, which suspend it from the top of the bell.

The thickness of the edge of the bell is usually one fifteenth of its diameter, and its height twelve times its thickness.

The sound of a bell arises from a vibratory motion of its parts, like that of a musical string. The stroke of the clapper drives the parts struck away from the centre, and the metal of the bell being elastic, they not only recover themselves, but even spring back a little nearer to the centre than they were before struck by the clapper. Thus the circumference of the bell undergoes alternate changes of figure, and gives that tremulous motion to the air, in which sound consists.

The sound which the metal thus gives, arises not so much from the metal itself, as from the form in which it is made. A lump of bell-metal gives little or no sound; but, cast into a bell, it is strikingly musical. A piece of lead, which is not at all a sonorous body, if moulded into proper shape, will give sound, which, therefore, arises from the form of the object.

The origin of bells is not known; those of a small size are very ancient. Among the Jews it was ordered by Moses, that the lower part of the blue robe, which was worn by the high priest, should be adorned with pomegranates and gold bells, intermixed at equal distances.

Among Christians, bells were first employed to call together religious congregations, for which purpose runners had been employed before. Afterwards the people were assembled together by little pieces of board struck together, hence called sacred boards; and, lastly, by bells.

Paulinus, bishop of Nola, in Campania, is said to have first introduced church bells, in the fourth century. In the sixth century they were used in convents, and were suspended on the roof of the church, in a frame. In the eighth century an absurd custom of baptizing and naming bells began; after this they were supposed to clear the air from the influence of evil spirits.

Church bells were, probably, introduced into England soon after their invention. They are mentioned by Bede, about the close of the seventh century. In the East they came into use in the ninth century.

In former times it was the custom for people to build immense minsters, and to apply their wealth in ornamenting their places of worship. The same spirit made them vie with each other in the size of their bells. The great bell of Moscow, cast in 1653, in the reign of the Empress Anne, is computed to weigh 443,772 lbs.

Bells are of great service at sea during a very dark night, or thick fog; they are kept, in such cases, constantly ringing. Near the Bell Rock light-house, in England, as a warning to the mariner in fogs or dark weather, two large bells, each weighing 1200 lbs., are tolled day and night, by the same machinery which moves the lights, by which means ships keep off these dangerous rocks.

A Mother’s Affection.

Would you know what _maternal affection_ is?--listen to me, and I will tell you.

Did you ever notice anything with its young, and not observe a token of joy and happiness in its eyes? Have you not seen the hen gather her chickens together? She seemed delighted to see them pick up the grain which she refrained from eating. Did you never see the young chick ride on its mother’s back, or behold the whole brood nestle beneath her wing? If you have, you may know something of a mother’s love.

Did you ever see a cat play with its kitten? How full of love and joy she looks; how she will fondle and caress it; how she will suffer it to tease, and tire, and worry her in its wild sports, and yet not harm it in the least! Have you not seen her take it up in her mouth, and carry it gently away, that it should not be injured? and with what trembling caution would she take it up, in fear that she might hurt it!

Did you ever see a bird building its nest? Day by day, and hour by hour, they labor at their work, and all so merrily, then they line it with soft feathers, and will even pluck their own down, rather than their young should suffer.

A sheep is the meekest, the most timid and gentle of animals--the least sound will startle it, the least noise will make it flee; but, when it has a little lamb by its side, it will turn upon the fiercest dog, and dare the combat with him: it will run between its lamb and danger, and rather die than its young one should be harmed.

The bird will battle with the serpent; the timid deer will turn and meet the wolf; the ant will turn on the worm; and the little bee will sheath its sting in any intruder that dares to molest its young.

Many beasts are fierce and wild, and prowl about for blood; but the fiercest of beasts--the tiger, the hyæna, the lion, the bear--all love their young: yes, the most cruel natures are not utterly cruel. The snake opens her mouth, and suffers her young to enter into her bosom when they are in danger:--this is maternal love.

If, then, the beasts and reptiles of the earth, who are so full of love for their offspring,--if they will care for them, provide for them, live for them, die for them,--how great do you suppose must be the love of a mother for her child? Greater than these, be assured; ay, far greater, for the mother looks forward for the time when the child shall become like a flower in full blossom. A mother’s love is the most powerful thing on earth!

All other things are subject to change, all other hearts may grow cold, all other things may be lost or forgotten--but a mother’s love lasts forever! It is akin to that love with which God himself loves his creatures, and never faileth.

Love thy mother, then, my little child. When she is gone, there is no eye can brighten upon thee, no heart can melt for thee, like hers; then wilt thou find a void, a vacancy, a loss, that all the wealth or grandeur of the world can never fill up.

Thy mother may grow old, but her love decays not; she may grow sear at heart, and gray upon the brow, but her love for thee will be green. Think, then, in the time of her decline, of what she has suffered, felt, and known for thee; think of her devotion, her cares, her anxiety, her hopes, her fears--think, and do not aught that may bring down her gray hairs with sorrow to the grave.

IN 1753, the Boston Common presented a singular spectacle. It was the anniversary of a society for encouraging industry. In the afternoon, about three hundred young women, neatly dressed, appeared on the common at their spinning wheels. These were placed regularly in three rows. The weavers also appeared, in garments of their own weaving. One of them, working at a loom, was carried on a staging on men’s shoulders, attended with music. A discourse was preached, and a collection taken up from the vast assemblage for the benefit of the institution.

* * * * *

A YOUNG child having asked what the cake, a piece of which she was eating, was baked in, was told that it was baked in a “spider.” In the course of the day, the little questioner, who had thought a good deal about the matter, without understanding it, asked again, with all a child’s simplicity and innocence, “Where is that great _bug_ that you bake cake in?”

The Voyages, Travels, and Experiences of Thomas Trotter.