enjoyed amidst the riches and splendour of her own country.

strength would be given her from heaven for her pious undertaking.

In happy ignorance the child of the exiles grew When Prasca returned to the hut, she saw her up. They had no books to teach her, and no father sitting at the door smoking a long pipe, heart to set about what appeared a hopeless and with a calmer and more composed look than usual. unnecessary work. She had never learned to read She thought the opportuity a good one; and, or write; and yet ignorant in one sense she was seating herself at his feet, begged him to listen to not, for she had learned what was far better-what she had to say; and then, in a serious manshe had learned to pray. From her mother, it ner and earnest tone of voice, opened to him her would seem, she received the first principles of plan of going to Petersburgh, anxiously entreatreligion; but it was God himself who, in a pecu-ing him to consent to it, and let her set out as liar manner, blessed the good seed sown in her heart, so that it ripened and brought forth much fruit. At an age when few children think of such things, she would go alone into a solitary part of the forest, and there, kneeling down, would pray in secret to her beavenly Father. No wonder, then, if every day she increased in holiness, and Ler mind became more and more filled with peace and joy.

soon as possible. Loupouloff listened in silence; smiled half in kindness, half in bitterness; and, turning from his child, called loudly to her mother, who was busy in doors.

"Wife," he said, with a laugh that was anything but mirthful, we will send no more letters to the governor. Here is a friend who offers to take our message to the emperor. Prasca is going to walk across the country this very afternoon, and set every thing to rights for us at Petersburgh. Come, and hear how she has been planning out her journey ;" and he laughed again.

"I wish she would plan out her work," said the mother, "instead of talking nonsense. I have been wanting her this last half-hour to clear the table for dinner. Come, Prasca,” she added, in a kinder tone; for the poor little girl's eyes were full of tears, "come, dear child: I cannot spare you just yet. When dinner is over, you shall set out: the walk is nothing at all; and the days are long enough.”

One thing alone prevented Prasca from feeling always happy, and this was the melancholy she could not help remarking at times in her parents' countenances, especially in that of her father. It is true that not a word was ever spoken in her presence of their altered circumstances; but many things made her suspect that some secret grief pressed heavily on their minds; and her suspicions were soon changed into certainty. One night, she overheard from her bed, through a hole in the partition of their hut, the loud and despairing lamentations of Loupouloff. He had all that day been unusually dejected, in consequence Prasca felt sadly mortified. Had her parents of the failure of an attempt he had made to in- spoken angrily, she would not have been half so terest the governor of Tobolsk in his favour; and, much disheartened; for, in a frame of mind like when alone with his wife, he broke out into vio-hers, nothing is so hard to bear as ridicule. Her lent complaints, talked of death as a less dreadful resolution, however, remained unshaken, and she punishment than exile, and with many bitter words hoped soon to find another and a better opporaccused the emperor of cruelty and injustice. tunity of speaking to her father, and showing him Prasca listened attentively, and presently heard she was really in earnest. In the mean time, the her mother attempting to soothe him; and her journey was continually in her mind. She knew there would be many difficulties in the way, though she knew not all, or half of them: above all, she knew that she must first get a passport; but how was this to be done? She wished for a friend to advise and direct her, and, for want of a better, determined to open her mind to one of their companions in exile, whose name was Neiler.

own name was mentioned.

"Do not talk of my child," exclaimed Loupouloff wildly: "the very sight of her breaks my heart. The idea of her spending her life in this dismal place is the greatest of my sorrows."

She heard him pace up and down the narrow room, refusing to be comforted; and she also heard her mother sob convulsively.

This Neiler was a German by birth, and a tailor The long, sad night passed away; and Prasca, by trade. For what offence he had been sent to who had never closed her eyes, arose in the mornSiberia remained a secret. He had once lived a ing full of grief. She felt afraid to speak to her year at Moscow, in the service of one of the proparents of what she had heard; and, uncertain fessors of the university, and had there picked up what to do, she went into the forest, and there a little learning, of which he made a great show; knelt down under the shade of some old birch- so that he was looked up to as a sort of oracle by trees, a favourite spot, where she had often before his neighbours; though, in truth, a more shallow, enjoyed hours of meditation and prayer. As she conceited man was hardly to be met with in the fervently implored the Lord to look with merciful whole Russian empire. Prasca had often seen compassion on her father, the thought came sud-him at her father's, and been distressed by his denly into her mind, "Why should not I go to the emperor, and kneel to him as I am now kneeling to God? Why cannot I speak to him-who, after all, is but a man--and ask him to let my parents return to their country?" Again she prayed, and with more earnestness than before; and it is remarkable that from that instant-till, after three years of difficulty and danger, her purpose was accomplished and her father restorednever did a single doubt cross her mind, never did she feel less than perfect confidence that

flippant way of talking on serious subjects: she thought, however, that one so clever as Neiler was considered by all those around him might very likely be able to tell her what she wished to know. Some time, however, passed away before she had any opportunity of seeing him alone.

one.

It was now the middle of summer; for there is a summer even in Siberia, though a very short About the last week in May the frost generally breaks up, and a sudden change takes place. At the end of two or three days the ice and

It was on a mild morning, towards the end of May, that Loupouloff, with a trembling hand and faltering voice, fulfilled his promise. He gave the passport and his blessing at the same time to his daughter, and yielded to her earnest desire to set out the next day. Her preparations had long Neiler was as good as his word. The letter been made: those who travel on foot, and ask was written, and given to a soldier to carry to charity as they go, are soon ready for a journey. A Tobolsk. Exiles' letters, however, are not apt to coarse canvas bag held the few things she had to be answered very speedily. Week after week, carry; and the passport, in a little oilskin purse, month after month passed away, and no passport was hung round her neck. Her last day in Siarrived. Every morning and every evening Prasca beria was one of tears, and yet of hope. Seated looked towards Tobolsk. Seldom a day passed between her parents, she soothed and encouraged that she did not walk along the road, in hopes of them by turns, talked to them of the Almighty meeting the messenger; but all in vain. Had Friend who would be her guide to Petersburgh, her purpose been of man-had it not, as she and inspired them with some of the holy joy and always affirmed, been suggested by God himself-confidence that animated her own breast. her heart must have failed her as it was, she felt each day more and more persuaded of success,

and the exiles all came to see her once more, and
bid her farewell. Most of them blamed her rash-
ness in venturing on such a journey, and said it
was madness in Loupouloff to allow it. Two
only of the whole party spoke encouragingly.
"We cannot tell," said they, "what may be
the end of the undertaking; but it is a good work;
and God will bless it, if he sees fit."

already, young woman? Why, you were made for a traveller!" and she found, to her surprise, that she was returning home, instead of going on to Petersburgh.

These were old men who had been long in banishment: they had known and loved Prasca for twelve years; and the next morning, before sun-people often laughed at her, and would not berise, they came again, one bringing thirty brass kopeks, the other a little piece of silver worth twenty more. It was all they had to live on for the next fortnight; but they begged her to accept it, as a proof of their good will. With many tears she thanked them both.

"I cannot take your money," she said; "but I shall never forget your kindness. Should my journey be a prosperous one, I may, perhaps, be able to give you some proof of my gratitude." ." Her parents had saved a gold rouble, and put it into her hands.

"This," said Prasca, "would not be enough to support me by the way; and, if it were, I feel persuaded I should not want it." She insisted on their keeping it in case of illness, or of any unforeseen expense during her absence.

Accidents such as these often happened to Prasca in the course of the journey. She knew nothing of geography, and had a most confused idea of the road she was travelling. The distance from Petersburgh was so very great, more than 2,000 English miles, that, when she inquired the way, lieve she was really going there. To avoid this, she sometimes mentioned Kioff, a town of which she had often heard her mother speak; for she knew it was much nearer than Petersburgh, and therefore, as she supposed, all on the way to that city; whereas, in fact, it is several hundred miles in another direction. How she got on at all is wonderful. One day, in a solitary place, the road divided into three equally beaten tracks; and, as she stood doubtful which to take, a kibick, or sort of travelling carriage, came by, and she called out to ask which was the right way.

"Which you please," said the driver; "they all lead to the same place: any one of the three will take you to Kioff, Rome, or Paris."

It is hard to be laughed at when we are in trouble. Trusting, however, to Providence, she took the middle road, and rejoiced, when evening came, to find it was the right one.

And now the sun appeared, and the hour of separation arrived. Prasca sat down: her parents and the two exiles seated themselves like- Prasca was never able to give a clear and parwise; and for a few moments all spoke, or en- ticular account of her journey. The names of the deavoured to speak, on common and indifferent villages and small towns she passed through were subjects. This is a Russian custom, and not so so long and barbarous, few of them remained in unmeaning a one as might at first sight appear. her memory; and the dangers and difficulties of When a friend is to leave us for a long journey-one day put those of the day before out of her perhaps for ever-is it not something to sit down mind. Her usual manner was, to travel on as with him for the last time? to cheat our feelings long as the day-light lasted, and at night to beg into a momentary forgetfulness of the truth, and food and shelter in some poor cottage, where she snatch from fate a few moments of happy unre- was sure to meet with Christian hospitality and served intercourse? The spell, however, could kind treatment. In the larger towns there was not remain long unbroken: Prasca arose, em- sometimes a difference; and, generally speaking, braced her parents, commended them to heaven, the richer and better-looking the place, the less and with a hurried step left the hut. They saw charitable she found the inhabitants. On the her turn the corner of the lake, where the rocks whole, however, she always said she had reason and trees hid her from their sight. Again they to speak with gratitude of the kindness she had sat down; and this time there could be no self- received, and to bless God, who disposed of the deception, for they felt that she was really gone! hearts of so many to pity and relieve her.

And here we must leave the unhappy father and mother to their grief, and the two kind neighbours to the task of consolation, and accompany Prasca on her journey. Not daring to stop, much less to look back, she walked rapidly on, and arrived a little after sunset at a village to which she had been directed, four or five leagues distant, where she was expected by a peasant who knew her, and kindly received her for the night into his isba, as the cottages are called in Siberia. Tired out in mind and body, she slept sound; and the next morning, at dawn of day, was ready to continue her journey. The sun shone brightly on the beginning of her second day's pilgrimage. Having passed several houses, and almost got to the end of the street, she saw swinging over her head the sign of an eagle, whose golden beak and outstretched wings had attracted her attention the evening before. The host was standing at the door; and, as she suddenly stopped to consider whether she had not mistaken her way, he called out, with a good-humoured laugh, "Back again

Some of Prasca's adventures were, however, too remarkable to be forgotten. Having one evening miscalculated the distance to a place called Kamouïchieff, she was overtaken by the darkness, and still worse, by a dreadful storm. A large pine-tree was torn up by the roots from the violence of the wind, and fell before her feet; and the rain poured in such torrents, she was glad to retreat to the shelter of some bushes by the road-side, where she remained all night. The next morning at day-break, shivering with cold and wet, and doubtful if her aching limbs would carry her any further, she had just contrived to drag herself into the road again, when a peasant passed by with a cart. She called after him, and begged him to take her as far as the town, to which he consented; and at eight o'clock she was set down in the street of Kamouïchieff, to take her chance for the rest.

Prasca trembled when she saw the size of the houses and the wealthy appearance of the inhabitants. At a low window, close by, stood a well

that he had changed his mind; and the sight of his wife, an old woman even more unpleasantlooking than himself, did not make her feel more comfortable. The room they were sitting in was large and gloomy, lighted only by pieces of pinewood, smelling strongly of turpentine. These were stuck into the wall in severa! places, and gave an uncertain, flickering light, that, to the mind of Prasca, had something in it awful and unearthly. Her hosts bade her sit down; and, before they offered her so much as a crust of bread, began to cross-examine her as to where she came from, where she was going to, and what money she had for the journey.

dressed woman, between forty and fifty, shelling peas on a table. From her nothing was to be got but harsh language: she had no food or shelter, she said, for vagabonds and beggars. At all the other houses in the street the unfortunate stranger met with nearly the same fate: indeed, it must be confessed, her wild and haggard countenance, and the state of her clothes, torn and covered with mud, gave her a strange and suspicious appearance. One old woman, on whose step she had seated herself from fatigue, actually drove her away, abusing and threatening her. Seeing a church not far off, she turned in that direction, hoping at least to find within its walls a place of shelter; but the door was locked; and, as she lay "I have eighty brass kopeks," she said, "that in the porch, more dead than alive, a party of were given me at Kamouichieff." And she felt boys, encouraged by the wicked old woman, be- at the moment how willingly she would have gan to pelt and insult her. A feeling of numb-given the whole sum to be out of their hands. ness came over her: there seemed nothing to hope from the compassion of man, and she was hardly able to clasp her hands in prayer to heaven. The Almighty, however, heard her feeble cry, and sent her a friend in the mother of one of her tormentors, who, happening to pass at that moment, stopped to see what was the matter. Shocked at the sight of a poor young woman in such a deplorable condition, she kindly raised her in her arms, and inquired who she was. The sound of her voice revived Prasca; and she told her as much as she was able of the object of her journey, and the dreadful night she had spent in the forest. "Poor thing," said the woman, "if this is true, you have been hardly used indeed. Come to my house: you shall have food and rest there as long as you like."

"That cannot be," said the old woman; "eighty kopeks to go from Siberia to Petersburgh! you must have gold or notes."

"Indeed I tell you the truth," said the poor girl; and, if you please, you may see my purse." Upon this they gave her a few potatoes, and told her to lie down in her clothes on a sort of platform over the stove, where Russian peasants, who are too poor to have beds, often pass the night. She did so, taking the precaution, however, to leave her bag on the floor, that it might be seen she had no fear of being searched. She could not sleep, but lay still, listening to what was going forward. To her extreme terror she first heard the old woman carefully bolt the door, and fasten the bars of the window-shutter. Then her husband said, in a whisper,

"No one saw her come in: we can do what we please."

After a few minutes, during which she concluded they were examining the contents of her bag, he again said,

This is all nonsense. She must have money. Did you not see a little oilskin bag tied round her neck?" And presently the old woman climbed up the side of the stove, and Prasca saw her dreadful eyes peering at her as she lay. Fearing they would murder her, she begged for mercy, and showed the little purse with the kopeks and passport, entreating them to leave the passport only, and take all the rest. To this the old woman made no answer, but felt in her pockets, pulled

But Prasca was by this time unable to move. She had lost one of her shoes in the storm, and her foot was bruised and frightfully swelled. At this melancholy sight the very children's hearts smote them for their past rudeness. Anxious to make her some amends, they fetched a shutter, and laying her on it, carried her in triumph to the house of her protectress. A crowd was by this time assembled; and, the starost, or, as we should say, the mayor of the town, having examined her passport, and ascertained her to be the daughter of an officer, on her way to Petersburgh to intercede for her exiled father, a general reaction took place. The compassion of the respectable inhabitants of Kamouïchieff once stirred up, she received from them every mark of kind-off her boots, examined her dress from head to foot, ness and attention: they kept her amongst them a week, and gave her a pair of boots lined with fur to continue her journey. The kind woman at whose house she lodged also filled her purse with kopeks.

"Does not this prove," said Prasca, when she afterwards related the story," that the hearts of men are in the hands of the Lord, and that he can dispose and turn them as he sees fit?"

and at last went down again without hurting her. Prasca heard nothing more, till, some time after, the deep breathing of her host and hostess assured her they were both asleep; and, overcome by fatigue, she forgot her fear, and fell asleep also. When she woke it was broad daylight, and the old woman was up and cooking; and the first words she heard were to bid her come and have some stchi with them before she continued her journey. Stchi is a sort of soup, made of salt meat and sour cabbage, on which the Russian

Ânother time, and not long after, she chanced to arrive after nightfall in a town, the name of which she never could learn exactly; and, knock-peasants live almost entirely. The old man ing at the door of the first house she came to, it was opened by an old man with a most forbidding countenance. He rudely inquired what she wanted; and, when she asked for a night's lodging, shut the door in her face. An instant after, he called her back, and said she might come in if she pleased. Prasca felt rather sorry than glad

brought a jug of kras, or beer made from the grain of rye, out of the cellar; and they both pressed her to sit down with them to breakfast. The terrors of the night appeared like a dream, till the old woman herself alluded to what had happened.

"I wanted to find out," she said, "whether

In spite of this change in their behaviour, Prasca felt no regret at leaving their house. She got out of the town as quickly as she could; and after walking some time, she sat down under a tree, and had the curiosity to count the money in her bag. What was her surprise, when, instead of eighty kopeks, she found 120! The strange old couple had added forty more!

A less extraordinary but not less formidable adventure, which befell her a few days afterwards, deserves to be mentioned. Passing through a forest, three or four leagues from any habitation, she was suddenly attacked by a troop of fierce wild dogs, that are sometimes to be met with in the north of Europe and Asia, acknowledging no mas ter, and preying on whatever defenceless creatures come in their way. Her terror, when these savage animals, jumping all at once on her, tore her clothes, and knocked her down on the ground, may easily be imagined; but, in the extremity of distress, her presence of mind never forsook her. She lay on her face like one dead, without the least motion for several minutes, during which time the dogs passed their cold noses over her neck, and seemed to consult what should be done next. Just at this moment a noise was heard at a distance, and presently some men and horses came up; at which the whole troop uttered a loud cry, more like that of a wolf than a dog, and bounded back into the forest. For months afterwards, and even till the day of her death, she never could think of that dreadful cry without a shudder.

stay behind. A kharstma is a solitary house, less like the inns of European countries than the cara vansaries of the east, where nothing is provided but the bare walls, and travellers are expected to bring their own food, beds, and whatever else they may want. Prasca's heart sank within her at the idea of remaining in this desolate place, added to which the master and mistress of the house seemed unwilling to be burdened with her, and looked on her, as she thought, with an evil eye. Her cou rage for an instant failed; and she burst into tears. Her companions were all moved with pity; still, no one went so far as to speak of lending her his pelisse. Some of them offered money to buy one; but no such article was to be procured between that place and Ekatherinemburgh. At last the youngest and most compassionate of the party started an idea.

Comrades," said he, "let us take it by turns, and each lend her his pelisse for an hour at a time; or rather, let her take mine once for all, and we will change at every verst."

This idea was much applauded, and they sat down immediately to calculate how many changes there would be, and exactly how many pelisseless hours would fall to each man's share; for the Russian peasant, however kind-hearted, is a calculating character, and particularly objects to being in any way defrauded of his own. Prasca could hardly find words to express her gratitude; and the next morning they started in high spirits; the young man, who insisted on taking the first turn, crouched in a corner of the sledge, and covered with the matting. The weather got colder and colder, and Prasca trembled for her kind companions. Her prayers in this instance also were heard, and all arrived safe and well at Ekatherinemburgh.

(To be concluded in our next number.)

VILLAGE IMPROVEMENT* :

AN ADDRESS,

BY THE REV. F. B. ASHLEY, Incumbent of Holme, Burton, Westmoreland.

Prasca had now arrived within a few days' journey of Ekatherinemburgh, the last town of Asia; and, to her sorrow, it appeared the winter had thoroughly set in. The icy north wind began to blow, and the snow fell in great quantities. She was detained a week at a little village, where the inhabitants advised her on no account to venture further. Many lives had been lost, they said, by attempts to travel on foot in the winter; and strong able men, well acquainted with the country, had missed their way, and perished miserably in the drifted snow. This was sad news, but her patience never forsook her; and she stayed with the poor people of the place, whose kindness in some degree comforted her, and to whom she endeavoured to make herself useful by her old occupations of washing, sewing, and household-work. Sledges were expected to pass that way very soon with Christmas provisions for the Ekatherinemburgh market, and in one of these it was thought she might find a place. To her great joy they arrived at the usual time, and a few kopeks paid her fare. The cold, however, was so intense, that it seemed to pierce through her very bones. The men who accompanied her had pelisses lined with fur, which kept out the wind; but her clothes were thin and ragged, and "I am among you, my dear friends, by the a piece of matting she had borrowed from one of providence of God, especially for the promotion the parcels, to wrap round her shoulders, was a of the spiritual welfare of the place. At the same poor protection in such a climate and at such a time, I would be far from being regardless of those season. Towards the close of the second day's objects, the promotion of which would tend genejourney, it became evident to the men that her rally to your comfort and happiness. The object frame could not hold out much longer; and, when to which I am about to direct your attention is a they stopped for the night at the kharstma, where * Addressed to the meeting of the Holme Improvement Sothey were to sleep, they strongly advised her tociety, by the rev. incumbent, in his unavoidable absence.

My dear friends, I much regret that circumstances prevent my meeting you this evening, as I had intended. However, as the season will not suffer delay, I take this means of alluding to the object for which you are called together. In the notice which I issued it was stated to be, to form some plan for the improvement of Holme, especially with regard to keeping the ways clean, and encouraging planting in front of the cottages;' and, it also stated, It is believed that these things, though trifling in appearance, if generally followed, would not only promote health, and improve the general appearance of the place, but also have a powerful moral effect.'