Chapter III: Front Matter (3)

“That would be rather too heroic,—your position is as defenceless as my own. These “gentlemen’s sons!”—if I were a man, there is no reproach I should dread, more than being called one of them!”

“Rather a sweeping condemnation,” said the artist, smiling; “but I think I have prepared a revenge that will reach the specimen before us;” and having perceived the subject of their remarks approaching from the summer-house, he called to him, “Will you step here, for a moment, Mr. Sutton?”

“I can’t—I haven’t time;” said Sutton, hurrying on, and they both noticed in him marks of much perturbation.

“Your portrait is finished, and I wish you to see it;” persisted Oakley.

His portrait was too closely connected with himself, not to have influenced him under any circumstances, and, accordingly, he stopped while the painter left the room for it, calling, as he did so, “Mr. Wallis—landlord—gentlemen,—I wish to have your opinion of Mr. Sutton’s portrait; oblige me by coming into the parlor.”

They complied and the picture, which was of a miniature size, was placed in the proper light. Miss Thompson gave it a single glance, and burst into an apparently irrepressible laugh. Mrs. Thompson, regarding her with much surprise, drew up her eyes, and stooped forward to examine it, and then, though she gave her daughter and the artist a deprecating look, she also turned away to conceal a smile. Wallis turned first to the picture, then to Sutton, and then to Cupidon, and made no effort to restrain his mirth, in which he was joined by the party of spectators who had accompanied him. Every one perceived that it was a correct likeness of Sutton in features, while the expression was strikingly that of the little poodle. The dandy himself could not fail to recognize it, and looked around him, pale with wrath and mortification, bestowing the fiercest of his looks on Miss Thompson.

“You don’t tell me what you think of my performance, Mr. Sutton,” said Oakley, with much gravity.

“I’ll not bear your insults, sir!” exclaimed Sutton at length; “I’ll not tolerate your libellous insolence!—what do you mean, sir?—what do you mean?”

“Insults! I’ll leave it to this company if I have not succeeded admirably! it reflects you as a mirror!”

“I’ll not put up with it! I’ll not pay you a cent; I’ll leave it on your hands, and we’ll see who’ll have the best of the joke!”

“Do sir!” said the artist; “it will be then my property, and I can do what I please with it! I’ll put it up in some exhibition labelled with your name!”

“Your station protects you sir!” he resumed; “if you were not beneath my vengeance, you should answer for this, but a gentleman can, with honor, only demand satisfaction of his equals,—therefore you are safe! Landlord,” he added with an assumption of dignified composure; “make out my bill; I’ll go instantly to the other house;—you must be taught that a gentleman cannot patronize an establishment where he is liable to be insulted by any scrub that frequents it!” and again looking daggers at Miss Thompson, who had not ceased laughing, he left the room.

In truth, had it not been for the almost insupportable ridicule that accompanied it, Mr. Sutton would have rejoiced in the excuse to leave the house, from a discovery that he had just made. After dinner, while in quest of Miss Thompson, who was at that time in conversation with Oakley, he had strolled into the summer-house, and found a letter on the floor. It was without direction, and though closed, not sealed, and more through blindness than curiosity he opened it. To his dismay it commenced thus:

“_My dear, dear Miss North_—How can I give you any idea of the
gratitude I feel for the last and greatest of your many
kindnesses; you have made me so happy that I have not words to
express myself, and not only me, but my dear mother, who says
that you have done her more good than could have been effected
by a whole college of physicians, for her health, at the
prospect of a pleasant home, and freedom from incessant mental
labour, begins already to come back again. We have given up our
school, and are preparing to act upon the arrangements you have
made for us. I have received a delightfully kind letter from
your uncle,—he begs me to consider him as _mine_; in which he
says he will come for us very soon, and requests me to enclose
any communication for you to him. He speaks flatteringly of the
satisfaction our company will give him while you are on your
travels beyond the Atlantic. He little knows how impossible it
will be to supply _your_ place!” etc. etc.

Sutton read no more. It was signed L. Thompson, and that was sufficient. He unconsciously thrust the letter into his pocket, and hurried to the house. How was he to back out?—it now struck him that less importance could be attached to his actions by others than himself, and he grew nervous at the thought of how he had committed himself:—that he had paid the most unequivocal attentions to—a schoolmistress! The artist’s triumph indeed relieved him on that score, but a new sting was planted, and a more miserable dandy was, perhaps, not that day in existence, than Bromwell Sutton when he applied for lodgings at the G—— Hotel.

“Our work is finished at last!” said the painter, a few days after this happy riddance, bringing down the piece, which had afforded them so much enjoyment, for the inspection of Miss Thompson. She was gathering up some books from the parlor tables with a thoughtful and pensive countenance.

“Then I must take a ‘last lingering look’ at it,” returned she; “I may never see it nor its original again.”

Oakley looked at her anxious and inquiringly, and she continued, “We leave here to-day; an unexpected letter reached us this morning, urging us to be ready at any hour.”

“And what am I to do without you?” asked the artist, in a very natural and love-like way, and he followed the question with a short oration, unnecessary to repeat. But before he had finished it, a carriage stopped at the door, and in half a minute an elderly gentleman presented himself in the entry.

“My uncle!” exclaimed Miss Thompson, running forward to conceal her confusion, and the old gentleman, after kissing her heartily, said quickly, “Are you ready, my dear? Where’s your mamma? I hope you have your trunks packed, as I have hardly a minute to allow you. I have urgent business awaiting me at home, and have only been able to fulfil my engagement to come for you, by travelling with all the speed possible. Quick—tell your mother, and put on your things.”

To the disappointment of her suitor, she ran up stairs, while the old gentleman busied himself in seeing the trunks secured behind the carriage. But immediately, with her mother, she came down, fully equipped, and while the old lady was shaking hands with the uncle, she had an opportunity to give him a single look, which one was sufficient: “Good bye, Mr. Wallis,” said she holding out her hand in passing him, “we have been such good friends, that I feel very sorry to part with you.”

“Where shall I find you?” asked Oakley, in a low voice. She slipped a card into his hand as he assisted her into the carriage, and was driven away. He looked at the card. “Valeria North, B——,” he exclaimed; “Is it possible!”

“Yes—didn’t you know that before?” said Wallis, “and that old gentleman is the celebrated jurist Judge North. When Sutton finds it out, he’ll be more fretted than he was at the portrait. She is a charming girl, isn’t she? I recognized her the minute she arrived, having had a glimpse of her before she left the Springs last summer, but as she seemed to wish to be quiet, and to escape attention, it was not my business to blab. I’ll go up to Smith’s and have some fun with Sutton.” He walked up street, and the artist commenced preparations for an immediate departure.

“Why Sutton,” said Wallis, when he reached the room of that personage; “what possessed you to fly off, the other day, with such terrible frowns at the pretty girl you had been courting so long? It was outrageous, and what is the worst, you can’t have a chance to make it up,—she left town to-day, for good.”

“Did she?—a pleasant journey to her!” said Sutton, brightening up astonishingly.

“What!—she jilted you, did she?”

“She! I found her out in good time for that!—though if it had not been for a lucky accident, I might have got myself into a confounded scrape; it would have been a fine mess, if I had been deceived into proposing to a schoolmistress!”

“Schoolmistress!—what do you mean?”

“Why, look here—you were a pretty sap to suppose her an heiress, and to make me believe it:—read this—I found it by chance, and, somehow, it got into my pocket.”

He handed the letter to Wallis, who, after looking over it, remarked, “I see nothing to the contrary in that. I suppose it came enclosed in an envelope from her uncle. Can it be possible that you presumed she had written instead of received it! ha! ha!”

The mystified dandy gave him a stare.

“And you never suspected that it was Miss North whose acquaintance you cut so cavalierly! It was, positively;—she gave her card to Mr. Oakley before she went away.”

“I don’t believe it!—why would she call herself Thompson?”

“She didn’t call herself Thompson—that was inferred to be her name, as it was her mother’s. I recollect very well of hearing at Saratoga that the old lady had had two husbands. The last was a Mr. Thompson. What an opportunity you have lost of making one of the greatest matches in the country!”

“It was all the fault of that rascally painter,” said Sutton, in much vexation; “I had commenced declaring myself the very day he excited me by his abominable caricature, and if it had not been for that I would have had an explanation.”

“I would make him repent it, if I were you—I’d challenge him.”

“But, you know that’s out of the question—a gentleman degrades himself by challenging an inferior,” and he walked up and down the room in great agitation.

“And then about that letter—does she know you found it?”

“No, no—I’m perfectly safe there—you won’t tell, will you? After all, it is not yet too late to make it up. I can go after her to B——; she will, no doubt, take it as a compliment to be followed, and, you know, it will be in my favor that I was so devoted before I knew who she was, won’t it? You might be of great service to me, my dear fellow,” he added, thinking to prevent Wallis from informing on him by making him his ally; “you have been in my confidence and knew how much I was smitten with her. She is, perhaps, offended by my desertion, and if you would go along, as she has a particular regard for you, you might help to effect a reconciliation. If you’ll go, I’ll pay your expenses.”

Wallis, who had no objection to take a trip and see the end of the comedy, on such easy terms, replied, “Anything to oblige you, if you can wait two or three weeks. I have particular business on hands now, but when I am through with it, I’ll go with pleasure.”

Sutton was obliged to submit to the delay, and in due time they arrived at B——. After arranging their dress, they sallied out to make inquiry about Miss North, when an acquaintance of Sutton encountered them, and stopped them for a talk. While they stood in the street, an elegantly dressed young man passed them, and looking back, in a familiar voice saluted Wallis. It was Oakley. “How do you do, Mr. Sutton—happy to see you,” said he, turning towards them, and saluting Sutton with a very low bow. The dandy returned a nod, and the painter having ascertained their lodgings, proceeded on his way.

“What a remarkably fine looking fellow that is,” said Sutton’s acquaintance; “I should have been pleased if you had introduced me.”

“Oh he is not such an acquaintance as one introduces—I have merely patronized him a little as a strolling painter.”

“Norman Oakley!—are you not under a mistake? He is the son of one of the wealthiest gentlemen in New England—a very highly gifted young man—a finished orator—a fine amateur painter—in every respect an admirable and enviable fellow. By the by, it is said there is a recent engagement between him and our belle _par excellence_, Miss North. She has been travelling through different parts of the country, preparatory to making a tour in Europe, and, this summer, they met accidentally somewhere and fell in love, quite ignorant of anything relating to each other but mutual personal attractions—so the story goes. They are to be married shortly, so that the lady may have the pleasure of a legal protector for her Atlantic trip.”

Sutton could bear no more, and, excusing himself, he hurried back to the hotel at such a rate that Wallis, finding it difficult to keep up with him, strolled off in another direction. When they met again the disappointed lover was prepared for a retreat homeward.

“Come, Sutton, that would be outrageous!” said Wallis; “you ought to have a settlement with Oakley, now that you find he is fully on a level with yourself!”

“I wouldn’t dirty my fingers with him—I wouldn’t let the mynx know that I thought her worth fighting about; for they would be sure to attribute it to that, instead of to the picture. I am off, forthwith. Do you go back to G——?”

“Yes, in a few days—but, the fact is, I met Oakley again, after you had left me, and got an invitation to the wedding. He said he would take me to see Miss North this evening if I wished it, but I declined, on the plea that I would be only in the way. But he said there was a charming little girl there, Miss Thompson—a relative of Valeria’s step-father, who would appropriate my company, if I pleased. From his remarking that she is to remain with the judge after the departure of his niece, I presumed her to be the writer of the letter in your possession. _Apropos_ of that letter—he questioned me as to whether you had found it, and hinted that Miss North intended it for your hands, knowing the effect it would have on you, from your aversion to poverty, low caste, &c., that she even tore off the date to mislead you the more easily—hand it here till we see if that is true.”

Sutton deigned no reply, and before Wallis was ready for his evening visit, he had travelled the first fifty miles of his journey homeward.

* * * * *

OLDEN DEITIES.

Open thy gate, oh, Past!—

A mighty train
Comes sweeping onward from its spectral clime,
August and king-like! Lo! from out the Main
One rears aloft a port and brows sublime,
Yet faded much with tearful wo and time;
And one with lightnings quivering in his hand,
And eye that speaks the thunder of command,
Walks steadfastly, and, seeming as in ire,
He lists attentively a harper, who,
Bending above the bright chords of a lyre,
Tells how neglect from certain era grew
In mortal breasts t’wards the Olympian Sire.
I hail ye Gods! Your reign, though haply brief,
Showed that poor man at least had _some_ belief.

* * * * *

RUSSIAN REVENGE.

TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH.

BY ESTHER WETHERALD.

A tragical occurrence, which, from its singular and romantic circumstances, would lead one to believe that the men of northern Russia are as susceptible of the tender passion, and as revengeful when disappointed, as those of more southern climes, recently caused a great sensation at Novogorod.

Instead of giving a cold recital of facts, we will place before the reader the depositions of those concerned; thus making him acquainted with the details of the crime, and also with the judicial forms of that country in criminal cases. There, all is decided from the depositions without pleading. These we are about to lay before you are remarkable for their simplicity and precision, having been taken by a man of uncommon ability, Mr. Polechko, Captain Isprawnik of the District, Oustiaje. He is an old officer of dragoons, but having lost a limb in the battle of Smolensk, he entered into the civil service, and has since acquired a handsome fortune.

Report addressed to M. Polechko, Captain Isprawnik, of
the District of Oustiaje, by Mikita Muranow, Mayor of
the village of Trehmiria.

“On the 20th of April, 1839, Nadiejda Yakovlevna, daughter of
Yakov Osipovitch, fisherman of Trehmiria, came to my house in
tears: she was in such great distress that I could only learn
from her, that an assassination had been committed at the
village. I went with her to her father’s, and there I found
extended upon a bed, a man, pale and livid, nearly cold, but
still breathing. Yakov and his wife were endeavoring to staunch
the blood which flowed from his wounds. On the floor beside the
bed were his garments soaked with water. The young girl could
not attend to my questions, so great was her emotions; but Yakov
told me that his daughter had gone out before daylight to
withdraw the sweep-nets which at this season are placed along
the isles and shores of the Volga. The fisherman himself was
engaged in spreading nets by the light of a lantern, when he
heard cries, and recognized the voice of his daughter. He ran
along the shore, and thought he saw in the dim twilight, a large
boat passing down the river with all the rapidity of the
current. A moment afterwards his daughter’s boat approached the
shore, and in it was a man, whom she had taken from the water in
a state of insensibility. After having carried him to his cabin,
he recognized in him, Ivan Semenov, cornet in the regiment of
the lancers of Archanguelk, who, two years before, had been
quartered in this village.—This is what I have learned from the
fisherman.

“Ivan Semenov’s wounds are so numerous and deep, that I can
scarcely dare to hope he will be alive when you reach this
place.—Please to bring a physician with you.”

Report of Nicolas Peterowitch Polechko, Captain
Isprawnik of the District of Oustiaje, to the chancery
of the Governor of Novogorod.

“I arrived on the night of the 20th of April, at the village of
Trehmiria, with the physician of the district, M. Frants
Frantsovitch, Mayor; we found in the cabin of the fisherman,
Yakov Osipovitch, M. Ivan Prokovitch Semenov, lately a cornet in
the regiment of Archanguelk. He had received fifteen wounds, but
the physician assured me they were not mortal, and that he would
certainly recover. The wounded man told me that his assassins
were Paul Ivanovitch Hortinja, quarter-master, and Pierre
Alexiecivitch Tsaryna, soldier in the regiment of the lancers of
Archanguelk. At the time he was wounded, the Cornet Semenov was
on his way to Rybinsk, in a boat which belonged to his father,
and which was loaded with linen.

“I left the physician with the wounded man, and without losing a
moment, hastened to Rybinsk. There, aided by the police, I
sought out the assassins, one of whom, the quarter-master,
Hortinja, was known to me. At the wharf I learned that a boat,
laden with linen, and having two men on board, arrived that
morning, the 21st of April; and that the cargo was shortly
afterwards sold to an Armenian merchant of Astracan. I then
proceeded to the residence of the buyer, Jerome Smilabej, who
confessed that he had bought the linen, which was worth 20,000
roubles, for 10,000—that he had this day paid 4,000 and was to
pay the other 6,000 on the 1st of May at Astracan. I did not
place much confidence in what he told me, for I knew this race
of merchants were liars, and that they encouraged and protected
crime when they expected to profit by it. Besides, I observed
considerable embarrassment on his countenance. I then asked him
where the linen was? He said he had despatched it to Astracan.

“‘Impossible!’ observed I. ‘You bought it this morning, and the
steamboat does not go until to-morrow.’

“He said he had sent it on in the same boat, having bought it
with the cargo.

“‘And what rowers did you employ?’ asked I.

“He turned pale, and stammered, ‘I employed the same who brought
it here.’

“At this reply, I seized him by the collar, threatening to
conduct him to the police office, when, suddenly, the door of
the room in which we were, opened, and a man rushed upon me,
poignard in hand. I recognized Hortinja, and drew my sword to
parry his blows. I also placed myself between him and the door,
crying a ‘murderer! an assassin!’ Fortunately for me, the
Armenian, instead of trying to aid Hortinja, hid himself under
the bed. The men of the house soon came to my assistance, but it
was some time before we could disarm and bind the assassin. In
the struggle he wounded three men besides myself. I bear three
marks of his steel upon my breast.

“After securing Hortinja, we drew the Armenian from under the
bed, and he then confessed that the other accomplice was half a
league from Rybinsk with the boat, waiting for his comrade. I
immediately sent for some of the police, and Tsaryna was
arrested without offering any resistance.”

INQUIRY.

“In consequence of an order from the Imperial Attorney, I, Nicolas Petrovitch Polechko, Captain Isprawnik of the District Oustiaje, went on the 26th of the month to the village of Trehmiria, where I proceeded to the inquiry in the following order:

“The first person I examined was Ivan Prokovitch Semenov, who declared himself to be 28 years of age, son of Prokop Karlovitch Semenov, a merchant of Kostroma, who possessed a factory in that neighborhood, where he manufactured much linen, which formed the principal part of his commerce.

“Semenov entered the military service in 1830, in the regiment of the Lancers of Archanguelk. He was appointed cornet of the said regiment in 1836. He commanded the second division of the third squadron, in which Hortinja was quarter-master, and Tsaryna a common soldier. In 1836, the division of Cornet Semenov was cantoned in the village of Trehmiria. In 1837, he handed in his resignation that he might return home to his father. On the 12th of November, 1838, Hortinja and Tsaryna came to Kostroma, to the house of Prokop Semenov. The former said he had left the army, the latter that he had obtained a six months’ leave of absence. The Cornet Semenov welcomed them as old comrades. He engaged Hortinja in the service of his father, and gave Tsaryna a handsome present to enable him to pass the six months amongst his relations. Hortinja behaved so well that he gained the confidence of old Semenov, who sent him twice in the spring to Rybinsk with linen. After having sold the cargo and the boat, he brought back the money with the greatest exactness. On the 15th of April, another cargo of linen was ready to go to Rybinsk, and this time young Semenov was to go with him to that city, and from there make a voyage to Astracan. On the evening before their departure Tsaryna arrived, and as he had been a sailor before he entered the army, he begged the Cornet Semenov to employ him instead of engaging another sailor, telling him that it was time he was on his way to rejoin his regiment, which he said was cantoned at Novogorod-la-Grande. Semenov consented, and set out next day in the boat with Hortinja, Tsaryna, a peasant sailor, and a servant. On the second day the sailor and servant were both taken so violently ill with the cholic, that they were obliged to leave the boat and remain behind at the village of Bahorka.

“On the 19th, Semenov remarked that Hortinja and Tsaryna had secret conferences, and seemed to be concerting something. At night, after having in vain tried to sleep, he left the cabin and took a seat on the prow of the vessel. He had scarcely done so when he saw a light at some distance, and said to his companions, “My friends, we are near Trehmiria, and I bet that is old Yakov spreading his nets.” The two men did not reply, and Semenov continued “By God, if the old fisherman’s nets attracted fishes as well as the eyes of Nadiejda did the lancers of Archanguelk, he would be rich in a short time.” Hardly had he spoken these words when he was struck in the back with a knife. He tried to turn round, but was knocked down by his assassins. He still struggled, but was wounded repeatedly. He called for assistance, and thought he heard a voice which replied. He was then thrown into the river. This was all he remembered, he could not tell how he got into the bark of Nadiejda. After the wounded man had given the above deposition, I put to him the following questions:

Q. “Have you inflicted military punishment on Hortinja and Tsaryna?”

R. “You know captain, it is impossible to get along in the army without making use of the baton; during the year of my command, Hortinja was beaten nine or ten times, and Tsaryna from forty to fifty, but I never ordered more than a hundred blows of the baton at once; so that the officers of the regiment laughed at my moderation, and called me scholar, and French officer.”

Q. “Have you not excited the jealousy of some comrade?”

R. “Not that I am aware of.”

Q. “Were you not acquainted with this Nadiejda who saved your life?”

R. “I knew her to be the most beautiful girl of Trehmiria, and of irreproachable virtue; my lancers told me this, Hortinja one of the first. I could not hope to have her for a mistress—and for a wife.—”

Q. “That is sufficient. Knew you not that Hortinja paid his court to her?”

R. “I did not; all the lancers found her beautiful and attractive.”

Q. “Do you suffer much from your wounds?”

R. “No, captain, I feel much better, and hope I shall soon be well; the guilty man’s hand struck feebly, therefore I hope he will not be punished severely.”

Thus closed the examination of Semenov. I then proceeded to that of the quarter-master Hortinja.

Paul Ivanovitch Hortinja was born in 1787 in the city of Smolensk—entered the army in 1806 in which he remained thirty-two years and a half—was quarter-master 15 years and four months. He has made eighteen campaigns, been engaged in forty-nine battles, and a hundred and thirty-seven combats—has received the cross of Saint George, and five medals. He left the service in the month of October 1838. His discharge and certificates give him a very high character.

Q. “What cause had you for disliking Cornet Semenov?”

R. “Not any. I always found him good and kind as a father. I have said so to my soldiers. We had no better officer.”

Q. “And what then caused you to commit so abominable a crime?”

R. “O father! (a common expression of the Russian soldier) my crime is abominable, but harken, I will tell you every thing. I, an old man—having attained my fiftieth year, I loved for the first time—a child—this Nadiejda; I loved her as our fathers loved the glorious empress Catharine (here he made the sign of the cross.) I was quarter-master, and had saved something—she was a poor peasant slave, I wished to marry her, and offered to buy her of her master Count Strogonof—I was to pay him 500 roubles. Her father consented to it, but she refused me disdainfully, without my being able to comprehend why. In the mean time Tsaryna came to see me, and said, thou art sorrowful comrade, but thou should’st not be so. Nadiejda is the mistress of the cornet; she is almost always at the house where he lodges; this is well known—thou only appearest to doubt it. My heart died within me at these words—my head turned round, but I said nothing, for the Cornet Semenov was my officer. I began to watch Nadiejda closely, and I saw that she did often go to the house where he lodged. I thought not then of revenge. It was at this time that the cornet gave in his resignation, and returned to Kostroma. I then saw the tears of Nadiejda. I saw that grief undermined her health and tarnished the lustre of her cheek, but I loved her still. A year passed thus—I repeated my offer of marriage, she refused me again, and this time she told me she loved young Semenov, and swore she would never marry any one.

“At this time Tsaryna became my friend and confidant; he represented the cornet as the seducer of this young girl, and I resolved to avenge her. I obtained my discharge—he, his leave of absence, and we went to Kostroma.

“The kind reception the cornet gave us, joined to his confidence and frankness, disarmed me, and I determined to abandon my criminal project. Things were in this state, when young Semenov resolved to go to Astracan. Tsaryna requested that he might fill the place of the second sailor, and his request was complied with. The evening before our departure he spoke to me of our old project—I was angry—he praised the beauty of Nadiejda—spoke to me of her misfortune—of my shame; I said nothing, but God only knows what infernal tortures my poor heart sustained; (here he paused a moment in great emotion) we set out; on the second day of our navigation, the first sailor and the servant were taken sick, but as truly as I pray God to save my soul and pardon my crime, I am ignorant of the cause of their malady. I advised the cornet to employ another sailor, but he thought it unnecessary, for the navigation was easy and the current rapid.

“Tsaryna was constantly speaking to me of Nadiejda; when we came in sight of the village of Trehmiria I was moved, troubled, and when the cornet spoke of her I was no longer master of myself, I drew my knife and struck him.”

Q. “Did you strike him once, or several times?”

R. “I do not know, I had lost my reason.”

Q. “Did Tsaryna aid you to commit the crime?”

R. “I cannot tell, I only remember that he cried out. Some one is coming! a bark, a bark!”

Q. “And what did you do then?”

R. “I was furious, desperate, distracted. When the day dawned, I saw the shores, the river, but I saw neither the cornet, nor the village of Trehmiria. I wished to throw myself into the water, but had not sufficient energy, and suffered myself to be persuaded to live, and seek my safety in flight.”

Q. “When you arrived at Rybinsk, how did you manage to sell your cargo so quickly?”

R. “I knew Jerome Smilabej, and to him I confided my crime. He consented to save us, provided we abandoned the cargo to him, and he promised to arrange every thing for us, and conduct us to a place of safety.”

Q. “Why didst thou attack me?”

R. “I had promised the Armenian in case of unforeseen danger to defend his life as my own. The moment of danger had come, and I fulfilled my promise.”

Q. “Thou sayest that Tsaryna urged thee to commit crime, and aided thee to execute it—that the Armenian protected criminals, and appropriated to himself wealth which did not belong to him?”

R. “I neither denounce nor accuse any one. I have spoken the truth. I seek not to deny my crime nor to cast the consequences upon others. I am a great criminal!”

EXAMINATION OF PIERRE ALEXIECIVITCH TSARYNA, SON OF A CITIZEN OF
KOSTROMA.

He is thirty-two years of age; entered the military service in 1828 as a recruit in the lancers of Archanguelk. He denies any participation in the crime.

Q. “Yet you were the first to tell the quarter-master Hortinja that a great intimacy existed between the Cornet Semenov and the girl Nadiejda.”

R. “I was joking when I said Semenov and Nadiejda were too intimate. The quarter-master was wicked as the devil; he pounded our very bones with the baton. I revenged myself by contradicting his ridiculous passion for a girl young enough to be his grand-daughter.”

Q. “Why did you rejoin Hortinja at Kostroma?”

R. “I met him there by chance.”

Q. “And why did you choose to return at the time that Semenov was going to Rybinsk?”

R. “In order to save my money.”

Q. “Why did you give to the servant of Semenov, and to the first sailor, a poison, which produced cholic and vomiting?”

R. “They were very fond of brandy—they were like a cask without bottom; to play them a trick I put snuff into the liquor: is it my fault they have such delicate stomachs?”

Q. “Why did you provoke Hortinja to assassinate the cornet?”

R. “I did not. The quarter-master is subject to visions, he dreams so many other things, that he may have dreamed that also.”

Q. “Why, then, did you not defend him?”

R. “The cornet was in citizen’s dress, the quarter-master in uniform, and I am a soldier.”

Q. “What do you mean by that?”

R. “That the soldier must respect the uniform more than the citizen’s dress.”

Q. “Why did you throw the cornet into the water?”

R. “To save him from the fury of the quarter-master. I also saw a boat coming towards us.”

Q. “Why did you apprize Hortinja of its coming?”

R. “From joy that I could save the cornet.”

Q. “And why did you not denounce the crime of Hortinja when you arrived at Rybinsk?”

R. “Because I am a soldier, and he is a quarter-master.”

All my questions, all my expedients, the bastinado included, drew no other confession from him. Confronted with Hortinja, he replied to his indignation by sneers; in the presence of soldiers who had heard his provocations he denied them: only at the sight of Nadiejda did he turn pale, grind his teeth, and reply nothing, absolutely nothing!

DEPOSITION OF NADIEJDA YAKOVLEVNA.

Nadiejda Yakovlevna is twenty-one years of age. She confessed frankly that she had loved, and still loved passionately the cornet Semenov, but assured me that no intimacy had existed between them, and that the cornet was even ignorant of the passion he had inspired. She said the soldier Tsaryna had paid his court to her, and not being able to obtain her love had sworn to her that he would revenge himself upon the one who had obtained it. At first his suspicions rested on Hortinja, and he said he would soon get rid of the old rascal. Some time after he came to her and said, “Harken, Nadiejda! be mine, or I swear by St. Nicholas thou shalt witness the death of Semenov.” She cared little for his threats, knowing him to be a coward. About this time the cornet left Trehmiria. Tsaryna renewed his declarations, but still without success. Before setting out for Kostroma, he said, “The old one will do what I have threatened; before I return I will be revenged, I swear it by St. Nicholas.” She had never heard Hortinja threaten the life of the cornet; he was sad and melancholy—he even wept, but he was a man incapable of committing a crime unless provoked to it.

This is her account of the night in which she saved the cornet:

“I had a presentiment which oppressed my heart; before I lay down I found a cat upon my bed. A bad sign! As soon as I fell asleep I had horrible dreams. I awoke and cried out, ‘Wo to me!’ My father then ordered me to go upon the Volga and draw away the nets; there I heard cries, and thought I recognised the voice of Semenov. It was more than a year since I had seen him, and I knew him in spite of the obscurity. I rowed towards his boat, and as I neared it, I heard the splash of a body thrown into the water. Fortunately, I was close by and succeeded in drawing him out of the river. It was Semenov.”

The inquiry was completed by a few other declarations of less consequence.

The Armenian merchant tried to excuse himself, and said that he endeavored to save the two men in order that they might have time for repentance. In other things he confirmed what Hortinja had said.

The fisherman Yakov gave an account of the manner in which Tsaryna had threatened him, because he would not give him his daughter.

The inquiry terminated on the thirteenth of May, and the depositions were on the same day laid before the criminal tribunal of Novogorod by the captain Isprawnik.

On the twenty-ninth of May the tribunal pronounced the decree which condemns:

Paul Ivanovitch Hortinja to perpetual banishment in Siberia, and ten years labor in the mines.

Jerome Smilabej, Armenian merchant, to one year and six days imprisonment, a fine of one thousand rubles, and the costs.

Pierre A. Tsaryna, being a soldier, was sent before the military tribunal.

On the fourth of June, the military tribunal of the first corps of the army, assembled at Novogorod, condemned Pierre A. Tsaryna to pass three times through the rods of a squadron, and afterwards to be transported to Siberia, where he must labor in the mines for the rest of his life.

These decrees have been submitted to the emperor, and confirmed by him with this change: Hortinja is perpetually banished, but will not be obliged to labor in the mines.

On the third of June, the decree was executed on Pierre A. Tsaryna, who was so severely beaten that there is little hope of his recovery; he has been taken to the hospital of Novogorod.

L’Abeille du Nord, a Russian journal of St. Petersburg, reached us at the same time with the letter of our correspondent. It gives an account of this affair, and also adds that the emperor has deigned to decorate the girl Nadiejda with a medal of gold on the ribbon of Saint Waldimir.

The Cornet Semenov married Nadiejda Yakovlevna as soon as the trial was concluded.

* * * * *

PERDITI.

PART SECOND.

BY WM. WALLACE, ESQ., AUTHOR OF “BATTLE OF TIPPECANOE,” “MARCHES FOR THE
DEAD,” ETC., ETC.

AMERICAN BATTLE SHIP.