Read Ebook: Catharine's Peril or The Little Russian Girl Lost in a Forest And Other Stories by Bewsher M E Mrs

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Great changes had taken place on the Continent of Europe. Poland had proclaimed its independence, and Nicholas, the Emperor of all the Russias, had an immense army in the field to repress the efforts of this brave but most unfortunate nation.

The horrors that were perpetrated, and the sad issue of this too unequal warfare, are well known.

Catharine's husband had taken part in this campaign, and she had followed him to the camp.

We will not stop to describe the heartrending scenes connected with this war, but merely inform the reader that Warsaw was taken by assault; and in this is included a whole chapter of misery. On this fatal day many thousand Poles as well as Russians lost their lives. In the course of the evening after the battle, the superior officers of the triumphant army went to inspect the scene of the late bloody combat, where heaps of dead and dying were lying in confusion, for there might be seen the victor and the vanquished side by side.

Catharine was sitting at his bedside. Suddenly she uttered a cry: she had recognised the Polish lord Barezewski, her preserver and benefactor.

The Count recovered from his wounds, but he had only escaped one peril to fall into another even more terrible; his name was on the list of proscribed persons, and the mildest punishment for this in Russia means degradation and exile to Siberia.

Catharine no sooner discovered the fresh misfortune impending over the noble Pole than she determined to risk everything, and obtain an audience of the Czar Nicholas, when, falling before him, she embraced his knees, and with tears implored him to accord the pardon of her generous protector, Barezewski.

Nicholas, much touched by her gratitude and her earnest entreaties on behalf of the Polish lord, graciously granted his pardon.

Perhaps some of my readers may think Catharine need not have been so frightened at what she had to do in seeking an interview with the Emperor; but in our highly-favoured land we can scarcely enter into her feelings, for in Russia the sovereign is all-powerful, and, especially in past days, political offenders, or those taking their part in any way, were punished with the greatest severity.

A faint idea of what the poor unfortunate exiles have to suffer may be gleaned from the description which follows:--'Barren and rocky mountains, covered with eternal snows, waste uncultivated plains, where, in the hottest days of the year, little more than the surface of the ground is thawed, alternate with large rivers, the icy waves of which, rolling sullenly along, have never watered a meadow or seen a flower expand. The Government supplies some of the exiles with food, very poor and very scanty; those whom it abandons subsist on what they obtain by hunting. The greater number of these hapless beings reside in the villages which border the river from Tobolsk to the boundaries of Tschimska; others are dispersed in huts through the plains. For these unfortunates not a single happy day exists.'

To such a state of exile and misery would the noble Polish lord have been reduced if Nicholas had not granted Catharine's petition. This tale shows how the eye of a tender and watchful Father is ever over the young and unprotected. How true are these beautiful words:

'No earthly father loves like Thee; No mother, e'er so mild, Bears and forbears as Thou hast done With me, Thy sinful child.'

THE SHABBY SURTOUT.

My reader, need you ever say, With Titus, 'I have lost a day,' When right, and left, and all around, God's poor and needy ones are found?

THE SHABBY SURTOUT.

I had taken a place on the top of one of the coaches which ran between Edinburgh and Glasgow, for the purpose of commencing a short tour in the Highlands of Scotland. It was in the month of June, a season when travellers of various descriptions flock towards the Modern Athens, and thence betake themselves to the northern or western counties, as their business or fancy leads. As we rattled along Princes Street, I had leisure to survey my fellow-travellers. Immediately opposite to me sat two dandies of the first water, dressed in white greatcoats and Belcher handkerchiefs, and each with a cigar in his mouth, which he puffed away with marvellous self-complacency. Beside me sat a modest and comely young woman in a widow's dress, and with an infant about nine months old in her arms. The appearance of this youthful mourner and her baby indicated that they belonged to the working class of society; and though the dandies occasionally cast a rude glance at the mother, the look of calm and settled sorrow which she invariably at such times cast upon her child seemed to touch even them, and to disarm their coarseness. On the other side of the widow sat a young gentleman of plain yet prepossessing exterior, who seemed especially to attract the notice of the dandies. His surtout was not absolutely threadbare, but it had evidently seen more than one season; and I could perceive many contemptuous looks thrown upon it by the gentlemen in the Belcher handkerchiefs. The young gentleman carried a small portmanteau in his hand, so small, indeed, that it could not possibly have contained more than a change of linen. This article also appeared to arrest the eyes of the sprigs of fashion opposite, whose wardrobes, in all probability, were more voluminous: whether they were paid for or not, might be another question.

The coach having stopped at the village of Corstorphine, for the purpose of taking up an inside passenger, the guard, observing that the young gentleman carried his portmanteau in his hand, asked leave to put it into the boot, to which he immediately assented. 'Put it fairly in the centre, guard,' said one of the dandies. 'Why so, Tom?' inquired his companion. 'It may capsize the coach,' rejoined the first,--a sally at which both indulged in a burst of laughter, but of which the owner of the portmanteau, though the blood mounted slightly into his cheek, took no notice whatever.

The morning being fine at our first setting out, the ride was peculiarly pleasant. The dandies talked of horses and dogs, and fowling-pieces and percussion-caps, every now and then mentioning the names of Lord John and Sir Harry, as if their acquaintance lay among the great ones of the land. Once or twice I thought I saw an expression of contempt in the countenance of the young gentleman in the surtout, but in this I might be mistaken. His attention was evidently most directed to the mourner beside him, with whom he appeared anxious to get into conversation, but to lack for a time a favourable opportunity.

While we were changing horses at the little village of Uphall, an aged beggar approached, and held out his hat for alms. The dandies looked at him with scorn. I gave him a few halfpence; and the young widow, poor as she seemed, was about to do the same, when the young gentleman in the surtout laid his hand gently on her arm, and dropping a half-crown into the beggar's hat, made a sign for him to depart. The dandies looked at each other. 'Showing off, Jack,' said the one. 'Ay, ay, successful at our last benefit, you know,' rejoined the other; and both again burst into a horse laugh. At this allusion to his supposed profession, the blood again mounted into the young gentleman's cheek; but it was only for a moment, and he continued silent.

We had not left Uphall many miles behind us, when the wind began to rise, and the gathering clouds indicated an approaching shower. The dandies began to prepare their umbrellas; and the young gentleman in the surtout, surveying the dress of the widow, and perceiving that she was but indifferently provided against a change of weather, inquired of the guard if the coach was full inside. Being answered in the affirmative, he addressed the mourner in a tone of sympathy, told her that there was every appearance of a smart shower, expressed his regret that she could not be taken into the coach, and concluded by offering her the use of his cloak. 'It will protect you so far,' said he, 'and, at all events, it will protect the baby.' The widow thanked him in a modest and respectful manner, and said that for the sake of her infant she should be glad to have the cloak, if he would not suffer from the want of it himself. He assured her that he should not, being accustomed to all kinds of weather. 'His surtout won't spoil,' said one of the dandies, in a voice of affected tenderness; 'and besides, my dear, the cloak will hold you both.' The widow blushed; and the young gentleman, turning quickly round, addressed the speaker in a tone of dignity which I shall never forget. 'I am not naturally quarrelsome, sir, but yet it is quite possible you may provoke me too far.' Both the exquisites immediately turned as pale as death, shrank in spite of themselves into their natural insignificance, and scarcely opened their lips, even to each other, during the remainder of the journey.

In the meantime the young gentleman, with the same politeness and delicacy as if he had been assisting a lady of quality with her shawl, proceeded to wrap the widow and her baby in his cloak. He had hardly accomplished this when a smart shower of rain, mingled with hail, commenced. Being myself provided with a cloak, the cape of which was sufficiently large to envelope and protect my head, I offered the young gentleman my umbrella, which he readily accepted, but held it, as I remarked, in a manner better calculated to defend the widow than himself.

When we reached West Craigs Inn, the second stage from Edinburgh, the rain had ceased; and the young gentleman, politely returning me my umbrella, began to relieve the widow of his now dripping cloak, which he shook over the side of the coach, and afterwards hung on the rail to dry. Then turning to the widow, he inquired if she would take any refreshment; and upon her answering in the negative, he proceeded to enter into conversation with her, as follows:--

'Do you travel far on this road, ma'am?'

'About sixteen miles farther, sir. I leave the coach six miles on the other side of Airdrie.'

'Do your friends dwell thereabouts?'

'Yes, sir, they do. Indeed, I am on the way home to my father's house.'

'In affliction, I fear?'

'Yes, sir,' said the poor young woman, raising her handkerchief to her eyes, and sobbing audibly; 'I am returning to him a disconsolate widow, after a short absence of two years.'

'Is your father in good circumstances?'

'He will never suffer me or my baby to want, sir, while he has strength to labour for us; but he is himself in poverty, a day-labourer on the estate of the Earl of Hyndford.'

At the mention of that nobleman's name, the young gentleman coloured a little, but it was evident that his emotion was not of an unpleasant nature. 'What is your father's name?' said he.

'James Anderson, sir.'

'And his residence?'

'Blinkbonny.'

'Well, I trust that, though desolate as far as this world is concerned, you know something of Him who is the Father of the fatherless and the Judge of the widow. If so, your Maker is your husband, and the Lord of Hosts is His name.'

'Oh, yes, sir; I bless God that, through a pious parent's care, I know something of the power of divine grace and the consolations of the gospel. My husband, too, though but a tradesman, was a man who feared God above many.'

'The remembrance of that must tend much to alleviate your sorrow.'

'It does indeed, sir, at times; but at other times I am ready to sink. My father's poverty and advancing age, my baby's helplessness, and my own delicate health, are frequently too much for my feeble faith.'

'Trust in God, and He will provide for you; be assured He will.'

At Airdrie nothing particular occurred; but when we had got about half-way between that town and Glasgow, we arrived at a cross-road, where the widow expressed a wish to be set down. The young gentleman therefore desired the driver to stop, and, springing himself from the coach, took the infant from her arms, and then, along with the guard, assisted her to descend. 'May God reward you,' said she, as he returned the baby to her, 'for your kindness to the widow and the fatherless this day!'

'And may He bless you,' replied he, 'with all spiritual consolation in Christ Jesus!'

So saying, he slipped something into her hand. The widow opened it instinctively; I saw two sovereigns glitter on her palm. She dropped a tear upon the money, and turned round to thank her benefactor, but he had already resumed his seat upon the coach. She cast towards him an eloquent and grateful look, pressed her infant convulsively to her bosom, and walked hurriedly away.

No other passenger wishing to alight at the same place, we were soon again in rapid motion towards the great emporium of the West of Scotland. Not a word was spoken. The young gentleman sat with his arms crossed upon his breast, and, if I might judge by the expression of his fine countenance, was evidently revolving some scheme of benevolence in his mind. The dandies regarded him with blank amazement. They also had seen the gold in the poor widow's hand, and seemed to think that there was more under that shabby surtout than their 'puppy brains' were able to conjecture. That in this they were right was speedily made manifest.

When we had entered Glasgow, and were approaching the Buck's Head--the inn at which our conveyance was to stop--an open travelling-carriage, drawn by four beautiful grey horses, drove up in an opposite direction. The elegance of this equipage made the dandies spring to their feet. 'What beautiful greys!' cried the one; 'I wonder who they can belong to?' 'He is a happy fellow, anyhow,' replied the other; 'I would give half Yorkshire to call them mine.' The stage-coach and travelling-carriage stopped at the Buck's Head at the same moment; and a footman in laced livery, springing down from behind the latter, looked first inside and then at the top of the former, when he lifted his hat with a smile of respectful recognition.

'Are all well at the castle, Robert?' inquired the young gentleman in the surtout.

'All well, my lord,' replied the footman.

At the sound of that monosyllable the faces of the exquisites became visibly elongated; but without taking the smallest notice of them or their confusion, the nobleman politely wished me good morning, and, descending from the coach, caused the footman to place his cloak and despised portmanteau in the carriage. He then stepped into it himself, and the footman getting up behind, the coachman touched the leaders very slightly with his whip, and the equipage and its noble owner were soon out of sight.

'Pray, what nobleman is that?' said one of the dandies to the landlord, as we entered the inn.

'The Earl of Hyndford, sir,' replied the landlord; 'one of the best men, as well as one of the richest, in Scotland.'

'Oh, yes, we may burn our letters of introduction when we please!' rejoined his companion; and, silent and crestfallen, both walked upstairs to their apartments.

'The Earl of Hyndford!' repeated I, with somewhat less painful feelings. 'Does he often travel unattended?'

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