[Illustration:

  Gerald at Court.      _Page 35._]




  THE

  FOUNDLING OF THE WRECK.

[Illustration:

  The Happy Discovery.      _Page 41._]

  London:

  GROOMBRIDGE AND SONS,

  PATERNOSTER ROW.




THE

FOUNDLING OF THE WRECK.




CHAPTER I.

A SHIPWRECK.


If our young readers will take a map of Europe, and look to the west,
they will see a broad wide sea called the Baltic, stretching northward
and separating the countries of Norway and Sweden from Russia. To the
east of this sea is a gulf, called the Gulf of Finland, and at the
extremity of that gulf, at the mouth of the river Neva, stands the city
of St. Petersburg, the capital of Russia in Europe.

St. Petersburg is at the present time a populous and beautiful city. It
contains so many splendid buildings, that it is sometimes called a city
of palaces, but about the beginning of the eighteenth century (which is
a hundred and fifty years ago,) the ground on which it stands was an
immense bog, or marsh, surrounded by dreary forests. The only persons
who dwelt on the then desolate spot were some fishermen who built a
few little cabins near the water’s edge; but as the river at certain
seasons of the year frequently overflowed its banks, and the cabins
were sometimes washed away, even these few little tenements were often
deserted.

I dare say most of our young readers have heard or read of Peter the
Great, the celebrated Emperor, or Czar of Russia. He built the city of
St. Petersburg, and called it after his own name; but of that we shall
speak hereafter, at present we have to do with a humble individual,
named Michael Kopt, who lived in one of the cabins we have spoken of.

Michael’s father was a Swede, and could read and write, and was
therefore far in advance of the ignorant Russian serfs, among whom
he lived. Having been carried prisoner to Russia, during one of the
numerous wars between the Russians and Swedes, he had been compelled to
obtain his living as a fisherman. He taught his son Michael all that
he had himself learned, and also brought him up to his trade. When
Michael became a man, he married a young woman, the daughter of one of
the same craft; they were very poor, but they lived happily together,
for Margaret was thrifty and affectionate, and Michael steady, sober
and industrious. During the fishing season, Michael applied himself
very diligently to his business, and with his wife’s assistance, dried
and salted the greater part of the fish which he caught, then, when the
floods were expected, they removed to a village some miles distant, and
lived on the produce of their joint labour.

One season Michael and his wife remained in the fishing-hut, a few
weeks later than usual, on account of the fineness of the weather, and
there being no signs of the floods. However, on the day before that
fixed for their departure, a violent storm suddenly arose, and it was
evident that the cabins were in danger of being swept away, either by
the strong gale which blew from the sea, or by the water. Terrified by
the prospect, the two or three fishermen who had been their companions
hurried off, even in the midst of the storm, hoping to reach a place of
safety, before the floods overtook them; and Michael and Margaret were
preparing to follow their example, when they were startled by hearing
the firing of guns as from a ship in distress. The fisherman and his
wife looked at each other in deep concern, but neither spake. What
could they do to assist the unhappy mariners, and the delay of one hour
might be death to themselves.

‘Shall we go Margaret?’ Michael at length broke the silence by saying.

‘Can we help those poor creatures?’ she asked.

‘We cannot do anything to save the ship,’ he replied, ‘but we may
perhaps be of some service should any of the people be thrown upon the
strand.’

‘Then we will stop awhile, and trust to God’s protecting care,’ she
nobly rejoined; and as she spoke, she laid down the little bundle of
clothes which she had hastily put together, intending to carry with
them.

Michael now ran to the front window of the cottage, with the idea of
getting a view of the vessel in distress, but he only reached the spot
in time to see her go down. The wind had driven her with violence
against a rock, which had made a large opening in her keel, through
which the water rushed so fast, that all attempts to check it proved
vain, and she sunk almost instantly to the bottom.

‘All are lost!’ exclaimed Margaret, who had followed her husband, and
was now standing behind him with her hands clasped together, and her
eyes raised toward heaven in an attitude of prayer.

‘Nay, dear Madgy, it is possible that some poor creature may be drifted
on the shore,’ cried Michael; ‘I will at all events go and see.’

Margaret’s heart quailed with fear, lest her husband’s life should fall
a sacrifice to his humanity; but she could not oppose his generous
resolve, so she suffered him to go without a word of remonstrance.

As soon as he left the door, she fell on her knees and prayed that he
might be protected in his perilous enterprise.

She arose in a more composed state of mind, and then sat down to
await her husband’s return. Her patience was not long tried, he came
in shortly after, bearing in his arms a wicker-basket bound up in a
sheet of oil-cloth. The poor woman’s first words were an exclamation of
thankfulness for his safe return; she next eagerly inquired what he had
brought with him.

‘I have brought thee a child, Madgy, what say you to that?’ cried the
fisherman looking at her with a smile.

[Illustration]

‘A child!’ she repeated.

‘Yes, a brave boy. I found him in one of the holes in the rock.’

‘Is he alive?’ asked Margaret, drawing back the oil-cloth that she
might get a sight of the babe.

‘Alive, yes; the urchin seemed to be quite enjoying his new home.’

‘Don’t jest, dear Michael,’ cried Margaret; ‘the mother of this poor
little creature has most likely found a watery grave.’

‘True, but you will be a mother to him, won’t you?’

‘Aye, that I will,’ responded the kind-hearted woman, catching the
child in her arms, and folding him to her bosom. ‘Aye, that I will,
Miche, I’ll carry him myself, if you will take the baggage. But is this
poor babe the only creature who has escaped?’

‘I have reason to believe so,’ returned the fisherman; ‘but I could not
remain longer on the shore, the water flowed in so fast. We must haste
now, dear Madgy, or we shall be too late.’

Margaret wanted not a second bidding, but after having hastily wrapped
the babe in a bear’s skin, she and her husband quitted the hut.




CHAPTER II.

A JOURNEY AND A WELCOME HOME.


Michael and Margaret had, as our young readers may suppose, a very
unpleasant and perilous journey over boggy land, in the midst of a
violent storm too. The charge of an infant of three or four months old,
of course added to their cares and difficulties; but both the fisherman
and his wife had stout hearts which would not soon sink under dangers;
and the Russians are naturally a hardy people. Their winter abode was
the cottage in which Margaret had spent her childhood and early youth,
which was still occupied by her parents, they were therefore sure of a
hearty and affectionate welcome when their journey was over. The old
people had been very anxious about them, fearing from their long stay,
that some evil had overtaken them, so the present meeting was every way
delightful.

‘We have brought some live-stock with us, mother,’ said Michael,
smiling and looking significantly at his wife’s mother.

‘Live stock,’ repeated the dame, ‘why, what have you got?’

Margaret here took off the bearskin covering and displayed her little
charge to view.

‘What, a baby!’ cried the old woman in a tone of amazement.

Wet and weary as the travellers were, it was not a time to keep up
a jest, otherwise Michael would have let the old people guess for
a while, before he told them in what way the little foundling had
been thrown upon their protection, as it was, he explained all in a
sentence, and then begged that they would let him have something to
eat.

Margaret felt more disposed for taking rest than for sharing in
the meal, so she and her mother retired together into one of the
sleeping-rooms, taking the infant with them.

The storm subsided in the course of the night, but no effort could
be made to rescue the shipwrecked people, even should any of them
have drifted to the shore, for the river had by this time so far
overflowed its banks, that the path the fisherman and his wife had
so recently trodden, was not now to be seen. As there appeared but
little probability that the child would ever be claimed, Michael and
his wife resolved on adopting him, and treating him in every respect
as if he were their own. The little fellow seemed very well satisfied
with his new friends. He smiled and cooed at Margaret, in return for
her caresses, and tried to imitate Michael’s loud ringing laugh. With
Margaret’s mother too, he was an especial favourite, and even the old
man was much pleased with this addition to their family.

The matter to be decided on next was, what name the little stranger
should bear. Margaret was reminded by his wicker-cradle and the
perils of his infancy of Moses in his ark of bulrushes, on the banks
of the Egyptian river. She could not help thinking, she said, that a
_mother’s_ tender hand had fastened him so securely in his little bed,
and that a mother’s prayers had saved him from a watery grave, and she
proposed that he should be called by the name of Moses. However, when
the swaddling-clothes in which he had been found were closely examined,
an almost indistinct mark was found on one of them, which after some
little difficulty, was discovered to be _Gerald_. It was therefore
determined to call him by that name.




CHAPTER III.

A GLANCE AT RUSSIAN HISTORY.


Ten years glided away and very little change took place in the
fisherman’s family, excepting that the infant foundling grew up, by
degrees, into a fine intelligent boy. In the long nights of the Russian
winter, unless there is some kind of mental employment, time passes
very wearily. Michael had so far profited by his father’s instructions,
as to be able to impart the elements of useful knowledge to Gerald,
who was both an apt and eager scholar. His natural intelligence had
thus been quickened, and his thirst for knowledge increased by the
humble but useful instructions of his kind foster father. While they
used to sit round the large warm stove, when they had read from the
Bible or some other of the one or two books, which Michael inherited
from his father, Michael would then relate incidents in the history of
Sweden, or talk about the great protestant reformers--or the learned
men his father had known or heard of at Upsal, his native city. Gerald
was never tired of hearing about these things, and the thoughts that
came into his mind when Michael talked about the famous university
of Upsal, where so many people passed their time in acquiring or
imparting knowledge were quite exciting, and he could not help hoping
that something or other might occur that would place him in the way of
acquiring more knowledge than he was likely to obtain in the hut of a
poor fisherman, dearly as he loved his kind benefactors. Gerald was a
good and grateful child, and desirous of doing all he could to assist
those generous friends who had acted the part of parents to him. Even
when quite a little boy, he tried to help his father, as he called him,
in his craft. He was very fond too, of his good mother, as he called
Margaret, and you may be sure they loved him very dearly.

Previous to the reign of Peter the great, the Russian empire had been
far behind the other nations of Europe in the progress of civilization.
Even the highest classes amongst the people were extremely ignorant,
very few of them could even read or write, and they spent the principal
part of their time in feasting and drinking. They had neither ships,
nor sailors, and no manufacturing class of people, except a few of
the serfs who worked for the sole benefit of their masters. The fine
arts were unknown, and the most useful arts were very imperfectly
understood. At that time Peter, shared the throne with his elder
brother, Ivan; but Ivan, being only a little above an idiot in mind,
was a mere cipher. Peter, on the contrary, was possessed of a powerful
intellect and great sagacity, and he had moreover an enterprising
spirit. One of his early acts on ascending the throne, was, to send
a number of the young nobles of his court into Italy, Germany, and
Holland, to gain instruction in military and naval affairs. He also
sent to foreign countries for ship-builders and various artisans, but
not satisfied with that, he afterwards resolved on visiting some of
those countries himself, for the express purpose of learning how his
own kingdom might best be benefited.

In pursuance of this plan, he, together with a few chosen associates,
first went to Holland, at which place he worked as a common labourer in
the dockyards, no one but those of his own party knowing who he was. He
next came to England. It was his purpose to visit Italy likewise, but a
revolt amongst his people at home, and rumours that his sister Sophia
was trying to make herself empress of Russia, obliged him to return
after an absence of only two years.

Having now acquired considerable knowledge in ship-building and other
valuable arts, Peter began to see the advantages which would accrue to
his country, by the establishment of a port on the Baltic sea, at the
mouth of the Neva. There were many difficulties in the way of such an
undertaking, and one of the most formidable was, the low marshy state
of the land. These difficulties however, he determined upon conquering.
Had the Czar attempted to accomplish the same ends by justifiable
means, we should admire his forethought and genius, but as on the
contrary, he carried them out by force and cruelty, every humane heart
must condemn the act as one of tyranny and oppression. No seemingly
desirable end can justify us in using unlawful means.

To provide workmen for the undertaking, the Emperor in the year 1703,
sent bands of soldiers into the villages with orders to compel those
men who were capable of labour to engage in the task. Our young
friends have no doubt heard of the press gangs which were at one time
allowed in England, and of the conscription in France. Well, this was
a somewhat similar procedure, only instead of being forced to become
sailors and soldiers, as the pressed men and conscripts were, these
poor people were compelled to make roads and rear a city in an immense
bog. The peasants, or serfs, as they are called in Russia, were at
that period in a very degraded state. They were considered as much
the property of the nobles on whose estates they lived, as any other
live stock. Their houses mostly consisted of but one room. In the
centre of this room was a large brick oven: in this they baked their
black rye bread; and the top served for a bed for the whole family at
night. Their only articles of furniture were, a lamp suspended from the
ceiling, and a rough bench or two fastened to the walls. They were
clothed in sheepskins, and their food was of the coarsest kind. Bad
as was their lot, however, very few, if any of them, were willing to
exchange it for labour on public works of any kind, especially in such
an unhealthy situation as the marshes we have spoken of. The impure air
which rises from swampy ground is almost sure to bring on fevers and
other disorders. Then no care was taken to make them as comfortable as
the circumstances would have permitted; no houses were provided for
them to sleep in, and the tools they had given them to work with were
so unsuitable and bad, that their labours were thereby made much harder
than they would otherwise have been.

Exposed thus to hardships of every kind, the men, as might be expected,
perished by hundreds. But these disastrous results were not allowed to
interrupt the work: for as fast as they died off, others were pressed
into the service and marched off to the place. In Russia the Emperor
has absolute power over all his subjects: even the nobles, therefore,
dared not to oppose the mandate, had they been so disposed. Among the
unhappy individuals who were chosen for the purpose of filling up
vacancies made by the sick and deceased, was our friend Michael Kopt.
His general home being away from any of the villages, he, for some
time, escaped observation; but when strong, healthy men became scarce
in the neighbourhood, he and some of his companions were pressed into
the service, only a few minutes being given them for preparing, and
bidding adieu to their weeping friends.

Poor Margaret was for some time inconsolable, and Gerald was almost
in as much grief at seeing her suffer. He tried to cheer her by every
means in his power; but finding that she was hopeless of ever having
her husband back again, he formed a resolution which our young readers
shall hear at another time.




CHAPTER IV.

A GENEROUS RESOLVE.


At the mouth of the river Neva were several little islands; on one
of these islands the Emperor had a hut built for himself, and a
wooden house for his favourite minister Prince Mentzikoff, who was
his companion in all his enterprises. It was Peter’s fancy to take up
his abode on that wild spot and watch the progress of the city he had
planned. On another of these little islands a fortress was reared,
surrounded by a rampart of earth. This fortress was the station of
the engineer who directed the works, and the home of a few of the
soldiers. The inhabitants of Moscow were at first jealous of the new
city. They foresaw that it would, in the course of time, from its very
situation, be a more desirable abode for purposes of trade than the
ancient capital; and they greatly opposed the plan, lest their dignity
should decrease as well as their interests suffer; but the Czar was
not a man to yield to any, however high their rank might be; and he
persevered with his plans without regarding the dissatisfaction which
was so generally expressed. The houses of the new city were at first
built wholly of wood, and chiefly inhabited by foreign artisans. Peter,
seeing that the Russian nobles and wealthy merchants would not of
their own free-will take houses in St. Petersburg, published a decree
obliging them to do so. At the same time, however, he gave orders that
the houses in the best part of the city should be built of bricks and
roofed with tiles. He also made a law (there being no stone-quarries in
the neighbourhood) that every large vessel which came into the port
should bring thirty stones, and every boat ten, towards the erection of
bridges and other public buildings. Every peasant’s cart was likewise
compelled to bring three stones; and by these means materials were
raised free of cost for the public works.

As the place at which Michael was set to work was not many miles
distant from the abode of his family, he had an opportunity of
seeing them occasionally, which was a pleasure denied to most of the
labourers. Margaret and Gerald often went together, and though it was
frequently the case that they were only allowed to speak with him for
a few minutes, they were glad to undertake the journey even for that
brief joy.

As Gerald was too young to carry on the fishing craft alone, he and
Margaret resided wholly with her parents. Gerald helped the old man to
make and mend fishing-tackle, which was now their principal means of
support; and Margaret did anything she could to earn a trifle, still
their circumstances were very much worse than when Michael was at home
following his trade. Though Michael was naturally strong, and had all
his life been used to hardship, he could not bear the labour to which
he was set, so well as many of his companions. The air of the marshes
was very different from the sea-breezes, but the principal cause of
his sinking under his toil was, his spirit was crushed. While a man
possesses a feeling of independence, he may meet difficulties and
hardships with a bold front; but when he feels himself to be a slave,
(and these poor people were slaves though they bore not the name,) his
energies are in most cases benumbed, and his spirit is broken.

Margaret used to look very sad and often to weep, when she and Gerald
returned from their visits to the works, for with the keen eye of
affection she saw what he was suffering, though he said not a word.
On the contrary, when in her presence, he put on as cheerful an aspect
as possible. At such seasons Gerald always tried to comfort her, ‘Good
mother,’ he said one day, ‘do not, I beg of you, give way so to grief,
I am sure you will have father at home again before very long.’

‘How can that be child?’ she asked. ‘You see the Emperor does not let
any of the men give up the work until they are carried off by death.
No, there is no hope for my poor Michael; for he will die before this
huge city is finished.’

‘Oh no, he will not die, mother,’ cried the boy, ‘I feel sure he will
not die! You know you have yourself taught me that God takes care of
good people, and I am sure father and you are good. You have taught me,
too, that God hears our prayers if we pray to him with sincerity; and
I have prayed very earnestly and very often that he would bring dear
father back. Courage, good mother, do not weep; you will have him with
you again, and that before long.’

We must now tell our young readers that Gerald had formed a
determination to offer himself as a substitute in Michael’s place. He
made this resolution very soon after the fisherman was taken from his
family; but he well knew that would not be the time to put it into
practice, as he was not then eleven years of age. He hoped however,
in about two years’ time, to be suitable in appearance as well as
strength, and otherwise fitted to undertake the task.




CHAPTER V.

THE PROPOSAL.


This one idea was so constantly in Gerald’s mind, that it could
scarcely be said to be ever absent from his thoughts. He dwelt on it as
he sat over his work by day; he dreamed of it at night; and he prayed
constantly for the blessing of God upon it. Still he said not a word
to any one, being afraid that should he do so, his plan might meet
with opposition. He feared that Margaret would say he was too young to
engage in such work.

When a little more than two years had elapsed, he began to think that
he might make known his plan with some hope of success. He was by this
time a fine tall lad of nearly thirteen. He thought the most suitable
season for making such a proposal would be as he and Margaret were
returning from one of their visits to the works. The state of health in
which they found poor Michael, at the next visit, favoured the project.
He was evidently much worn, and Margaret was almost broken-hearted when
she parted from him, thinking it probable that she should never see him
again alive.

As they walked home, the poor woman leaned on Gerald’s arm and wept
bitterly. ‘Now,’ thought he, ‘is the time for me to name my plan;’ so,
looking up tenderly in her face, he said, ‘I have something to say to
you, dear mother, which I hope will make you dry up your tears. I have
often tried to cheer you with the prospect of a happier time, but now I
think it is nearly come.’

‘You mean,’ said Margaret sorrowfully, ‘that I and my poor Michael
shall soon be together in a happier world.’

‘No, good mother, I don’t mean that,’ Gerald eagerly returned, ‘I hope
you will meet together in Heaven at last; but not very soon. Oh no, I
mean that you will ere long be happy together in our own home.’

‘Never, never, my dear boy,’ she cried, weeping afresh.

‘Don’t weep so, mother, but listen to what I am going to say to you,’
Gerald added, and a bright smile lighted up his intelligent face. ‘I am
now a tall, strong boy--almost as tall, and quite as strong, I think,
as dear father was when he was carried off; and I mean to take his
place and let him come home to you.’

Margaret looked up in amazement, but she did not speak, for her
feelings were too powerful to admit of words.

‘I mean,’ Gerald proceeded, ‘to go to the Czar myself. I hear that
he is generally to be found, either at his cottage in the island or
else overlooking the works. I am not afraid of the Czar, mother: the
errand on which I shall go will take away all fear. I feel as bold as a
lion--aye, and as strong too.’

‘Thou art a noble boy, Gerald,’ cried Margaret, at length finding
utterance. ‘Go,’ she added, ‘and may God bless thee.’

‘You consent then, good mother, you consent?’ cried Gerald in an
ecstacy of delight. ‘My only fear was, lest you should oppose my plan;
but if you consent, it will--it shall be done.’

‘Nay, my dear child,’ Margaret said, ‘I am not the only person likely
to oppose your plan; the Czar may not be willing to make the exchange.’

‘Surely he will,’ cried the boy, ‘surely this strong limb--holding out
his right arm--can do him better service than poor father’s now weak
one can do; and gratitude and affection for one who has done so much
for me will nerve it for its work.’

Gerald then begged Margaret not to say anything at home concerning
his design, and that she would allow him to put it into operation
immediately.

He had heard that it was the Emperor Peter’s constant practice to rise
at five in the morning, and he determined on seeking him at that early
hour, before his attention was taken up with the business of the day.
There were difficulties, however, in the way of his carrying out this
purpose. The little island on which Peter made his home, was a good
day’s journey from their village, and as the only houses built upon it
were the Czar’s (which was but a mere hut,) the prime minister’s and a
sort of inn, where Peter and his friends mostly spent their Sundays, he
was fearful lest he should not be able to get any conveyance across the
water.

Nothing daunted, by these seeming obstacles, he resolved on setting out
for the place the very next day.




CHAPTER VI.

AN INTERVIEW WITH THE PRIME MINISTER.


Leaving it to Margaret to explain to the old people the reason for his
absence, Gerald started the next morning soon after dawn. When she
saw him ready to set out, the good woman almost repented of having
consented to his going; still she made no attempt to dissuade him from
his purpose. She provided him with the best food the cottage could
afford, and with tears in her eyes, bade him “God speed.” The day was
favourable, and he tripped along with a light heart and a light step.
No one, to see him, would have imagined that he was seeking to be
placed in circumstances, at the thought of which many stout-hearted men
quailed. He did not dwell however, on the hardships and dangers that
might await him; he only thought of how he should gladden the spirits
of those who had so long acted the part of parents to him. He knew that
they would be grieved to purchase their own comfort at the sacrifice
of his liberty, and it might be of his health also; but he hoped that
his youth and good constitution would enable him to bear the toil for a
time, ‘and perhaps,’ thought he, ‘I may find favour in the sight of the
Czar, and he may not doom me to spend all my best days at such work.’

In his way to the island where the Emperor’s humble court was kept,
Gerald passed the spot where Michael’s cottage had once stood, the spot
where he had been rescued by his kind guardian from a watery grave. The
view of this place, and the recollections it called forth, seemed to
give him new strength and spirit for his undertaking and though wearied
with his journey, he went on even brisker than before.

Some of the fishermen’s huts were still occupied, and Gerald stopped at
one of them to inquire his way. One of the men directed him, supposing
him to be the bearer of a message from some person in authority; for he
took the precaution to keep his plan secret from every body, lest the
telling it should by any means mar its success.

It was nearly dark when he reached that part of the river’s banks which
faced the island, but late as it was he resolved on trying to get over
that night. While he was standing considering what would be the best
means to adopt, three men came within sight, and jumped into a boat
which was moored hard by. Gerald ran eagerly down to the beach, calling
loudly to attract their attention, ‘May I ask, whither are you going my
friends.’

‘We are servants of his excellency, Prince Mentzikoff, and are going to
his house,’ replied one of the men.

‘Will you row me over with you?’ asked Gerald, at the same time holding
out a small coin.

‘Have you any business with his excellency?’ inquired one.

‘My business is with the Czar, but I should be glad to see Prince
Mentzikoff first, if I could get admittance to him,’ Gerald replied.

‘What is your business with the Czar?’ demanded another.

‘I have a favour to ask of him.’

‘If that’s the case, you cannot do better than get his excellency to
introduce you,’ rejoined the first speaker; ‘come hasten into the boat,
we must not tarry, or we shall be put into too hot an oven, and so
repent of it.’

This speech of the man’s had reference to the prime minister’s origin.
Mentzikoff was, when a boy, in the service of a pastry-cook at
Moscow, and he first attracted the attention of the Emperor by the
humorous manner in which he sang a song extolling his master’s pies.
Peter offered him a menial office in his household, but afterwards
discovering that he had a genius for military affairs, he placed him in
his army, where he rose rapidly. This young man was one of the Czar’s
companions on his journey to Holland and England.

[Illustration]

As the men rowed the boat across the river, one commenced a song, and
the others joined in chorus. The Russian people are noted for their
love of music, and they generally lighten their labours by singing.

On reaching the island, they conducted our hero at once to the house of
the minister.

The house of Prince Mentzikoff was very superior to the one occupied by
his sovereign, for Peter took pride in demeaning himself when he was
in the mood to do so; still it was but a rude affair, as our young
readers will no doubt think when they hear it described.

It consisted of a number of wooden beams, so prepared as to fit readily
into each other. Lattices and shutters for windows were also made to
fit in, and these detached pieces could be packed up and carried to
any place that the owner chose to reside in. Most of the houses in the
towns and cities of Russia were, at that time, so constructed; and
ready-made houses were common articles of merchandise in the public
markets. The furniture of these dwellings was as rough and portable as
the outside; a few shelves and some wooden benches were fixed to the
walls, and a few tables were added. The benches served for bedsteads as
well as for seats, and when these houses were put up in the country, it
was seldom that they afforded the luxury of a bed.

Little ceremony was used at that period, especially in such a retired
place, and Gerald was introduced at once into the presence of the
Prince. Mentzikoff was seated on one of the benches, having a table
before him, on which stood a bottle of spirits and a large horn cup.
He had evidently been drinking rather too freely, which bad practice,
though sanctioned by the example of the Czar, and the custom of
the country, was a new spectacle to our hero, who had always been
accustomed to see sobriety in his humble home.

‘What is your business with me?’ the Prince somewhat roughly demanded
as Gerald advanced.

‘Will your excellency do me the favour of introducing me to the Czar
before he leaves the island in the morning?’ Gerald said, at the same
time making a low bow.

‘For what purpose do you wish to be introduced to his Majesty?’
Mentzikoff abruptly asked.

‘Please your excellency, I have a favour to request.’

‘What, boor? Dost thou think to enter the Czar’s service? Thou art a
dainty lad for thy station, but thou’rt not quite to his mind I fancy.’

‘I do wish to enter the Czar’s service,’ Gerald replied; ‘my request is
that he will let me labour on the public works.’

The minister looked up as if doubting whether he heard aright:--‘Art
thou in earnest, boy,’ he demanded, ‘or art thou jesting with me?’

‘I would not take the liberty to jest with your excellency,’ Gerald
replied: ‘indeed my errand is not a matter for jest. I am in earnest. I
wish to take the place of a man who has been more than a father to me.’

‘Ha!’

‘One Michael Kopt, once a fisherman on the Neva, has been upwards of
two years upon the works, but his strength is failing, he can now be
but of little use to his Majesty, and I have a strong arm.’

‘Come hither at the dawn of day,’ said the Prince.

Gerald again bowed, and was about to leave the room, when Mentzikoff
calling after him said, ‘Bid my servants find thee a lodging and a
meal,’ and added, ‘come hither at the dawn, I’ll take thee to the Czar
myself.’ Here he turned aside to re-fill the horn cup and quaff off
another draught of spirits.




CHAPTER VII.

AN INTERVIEW WITH THE CZAR.


Gerald was true to his appointment, and he found the Prince prepared
to receive him. But few words were exchanged; Mentzikoff beckoned him
to follow, and they proceeded together to the Czar’s hut. It is an odd
fancy for an Emperor to live in such a place when he might live in a
grand palace, thought our hero; however, he wisely kept his thoughts to
himself.

Peter had been put out of temper the night before, by meeting with some
trifling opposition to his wishes and plans; and the minister, though a
very great favourite with his sovereign, was not quite sure that even
he could get a hearing at that time. He had taken a fancy to Gerald,
however, and he was determined to do all he could to serve him. Bidding
him, therefore, wait without till he called or sent to him, Mentzikoff
entered the Czar’s hut alone.

Peter was up as usual and busy with his plans for the new city. The
Prince did not, therefore, at once state the object of his early visit,
but quietly listened to all his sovereign had to say. After a while,
however, he ventured to lay the business before him.

The Emperor’s brow darkened and became more and more contracted as the
Prince proceeded. ‘What were the boors made for but to serve their
country in that way?’ he fiercely asked.

‘True, Sire;’ returned the Prince, ‘but this poor man is it appears
unable to serve his country by manual labour any longer, and as the
youth is so desirous of taking his place the exchange will be for your
Majesty’s benefit.

‘Bring him hither,’ was the Czar’s abrupt rejoinder.

Gerald was the next minute ushered into the presence of the Emperor.

‘Come here, boy,’ he cried in a loud stern voice.

Gerald obeyed, but without shewing any signs of alarm.

‘Thou’rt not Russian?’ the Czar added, surveying his person with a
scrutinizing glance.

‘I know not to what country I belong, Sire,’ the youth replied; ‘I was
shipwrecked on the coast hard by, and I owe my life and everything else
I possess to Michael Kopt.’

‘And who is Michael Kopt?’

‘Sire, Michael Kopt is the man whose place in the public works I wish
to fill.’

‘Thou art of too slight a make for such work, boy,’ cried the Czar.

‘Nay, I have a stronger arm than I may seem to have, Sire; and if
anything can nerve it for the work surely gratitude will do so.’

‘By what name art thou called?’ demanded the Emperor.

‘My name is Gerald, Sire.’

‘And how many years ago was it that thou wert shipwrecked on these
shores?’

‘It was a little more than twelve years ago, Sire, I was then an infant
of only a few months old.’

‘And you have never heard anything of your parents or friends?’

‘Never, Sire. The river was at that time beginning to overflow its
banks, and I have reason to believe that I was the only person who
escaped the wreck.’

The Czar mused for a few moments, then snatching up a piece of
parchment from the table before him, he wrote a few words upon it, and
gave it into the hand of the minister.

‘Give the boy that, Mentzikoff,’ he said; ‘let him present it to the
master of the works, and his request will be promptly attended to.’

The Prince handed the parchment to Gerald who took it with a
countenance radiant with delight. He could not speak, but making a low
obeisance first to the Czar and then to the minister, he withdrew from
the royal presence.

As may be supposed, our hero lost no time in returning to the cottage
with the joyful news of his success. But much as they all loved
Michael, Margaret and the old people could scarcely rejoice in the
thought of his restoration to his home when his liberty was to be
purchased at such a cost. To the grateful boy, however, every task
seemed light, and even his humiliation appeared honourable. Nor was
this a delusive idea, for the most laborious employment derives dignity
from a noble motive.

The different circumstances under which Michael and Gerald commenced
the same task made a wide difference in their feelings when engaged
in it. With the former it was compulsory, with the latter it was
voluntary. Michael felt himself to be the unwilling servant of a
tyrannical master. Gerald overlooked the fact of working for the
emperor in the animating idea that he was conferring a benefit on
those who had done so much for him. He had moreover the delightful
consciousness that his sacrifice of self met with the smile of his
Father in Heaven. Nor did Gerald repent of the noble sacrifice he had
made, when the first excitement was over, and he came to endure the
severe, and in some instances, unexpected hardships it had brought
upon him. He not only commenced his work cheerfully, but continued to
pursue it with the same happy spirit. His joy and thankfulness were
unbounded when he received intelligence that Michael was gradually
recovering his health under Margaret’s careful nursing. At length
the good woman herself came to visit him, bringing the news that her
husband was now so nearly restored that he hoped to be able to walk as
far himself ere long. Gerald thought, however, that it would not be
wise for him to come, lest it being known that he was again capable
of labour, he should be pressed a second time into the service, and
his fears were not without foundation; for where there is a despotic
government, the humbler classes of the people are looked upon as little
better than machines, made for the sole purpose of executing the plans
of those in power.




CHAPTER VIII.

A GREAT AND UNEXPECTED CHANGE--OUR HERO IN MOSCOW.


When Gerald had been about six months at his new employment, to his
great surprise he was one morning told by an inspector of the works,
that an order had just come from the Emperor signifying that he was to
be sent immediately to Moscow.

This intelligence created a little alarm in the breast of the youth,
for he could only suppose that he was suspected of having committed
some offence. Conscious, however, of having discharged his appointed
duties with faithfulness, he asked the officer whether he were sure
that he was the person mentioned in the royal letter.

‘The person signified is called by the name of Gerald Kopt. His person
is described, and the description answers exactly to you.’

‘I am called by the name of Gerald Kopt,’ the youth replied, ‘and if
the Czar commands me to go of course I must obey. Indeed I have no
objection to going. But should my mother come here and miss me, who
will let her know whither I am gone?’

‘I will engage that your mother shall be told all that we know
concerning you,’ replied the officer.

‘Many thanks for that kindness,’ cried Gerald, looking gratefully in
the man’s face, ‘I am now ready to attend the Czar’s orders.’

Could Gerald have divested himself of the idea that he might be going
as a culprit to be tried for an unknown offence, he would have been
delighted with the journey, for he had long had a strong desire to see
more of the world.

The distance from St. Petersburg to Moscow, which is upwards of four
hundred miles, was a formidable journey in a country where the roads
were bad, and there were very few inns. At a subsequent period the
Emperor Peter had good roads made between the large towns, and inns and
posting-houses were built upon them. Canals were also dug to connect
the great rivers, and there were many improvements of a similar kind;
but these things were the work of considerable time. Some of them were
only just commenced at the period of which we are speaking.

On their way to Moscow the party passed through the town of Novogorod,
the seat of the earliest government, and afterwards so noted as a
republic. Gerald was greatly pleased that he had an opportunity of
visiting this place, for Michael and his father-in-law had told him
something of its ancient history. How about the middle of the ninth
century, Rusic, a Norman pirate chief, when cruising about the Baltic
with his followers had sailed down rivers and through lakes till
they came to this city, which was then a mere cluster of wooden huts
inhabited by barbarians, and how the Norman had made himself master of
the place, assumed the title of Grand Duke, and laid the foundation of
the present powerful and extensive empire of Russia.[1] Many legendary
tales were told of the adventures of these wild Normans, and most of
these adventures were associated with the city.

[1] Igov, the son of Rusic, afterwards made Kirow the capital of
the country; but Novogorod was for a considerable time a place of
importance, and the chief city of a republican state.

On reaching Moscow our hero was so interested in the place as to forget
the painful circumstances under which he was visiting it. The city
was at that period enclosed with three walls; one built of brick,
surrounded that portion called the Kremlin, where the Czar’s palace and
the residences of the chief of the nobility stood; another built of
stone, took in a larger extent of the city; and a third formed of wood,
enclosed the suburbs. On the banks of the river Moskwa, which runs
through the city, were a number of wooden huts, the public baths. These
baths were constantly frequented by the inhabitants, as bathing was at
that time a religious ceremony amongst the Russian people. The poorest
classes never failed to attend the baths at least once in the week.

It was Palm Sunday when Gerald and his companions arrived, the place
was consequently in a state of universal excitement. The bells too
were ringing merrily. Moscow was famous for the size and number of
its bells. To present a large bell to a church was considered by
some a very pious act, therefore almost every new sovereign had a
bell cast larger than that which had been given to the city by his
predecessor.[2] Palm Sunday was a day on which a very grand festival
was always held. The religion generally professed in Russia is
according to the Greek Church, which is very similar to the Roman
Catholic religion. At that time the church was governed by persons
called Patriarchs, who were something like the Popes. The Patriarch
lived in Moscow, in a palace adjoining that of the Emperor where he
kept a court, and lived in as much state as the Czar himself.

[2] The Empress Anne, the daughter of Ivan, who reigned soon after
Peter’s death, presented a bell to the city of Moscow which weighs
432,000 pounds, and is the largest bell in the world.

On the festival of Palm Sunday the emperor always walked to church,
gorgeously arrayed in a dress made of cloth of gold, two princes
holding up his train. He was followed by a grand foot procession
consisting of the whole court splendidly attired. Behind the nobles
were a number of the chief citizens and lawyers, each having a branch
of willow, to represent palm, in his hand, and beyond these were the
guards of the palace. In this procession the Patriarch always rode
beside the Emperor, who held the bridle of his horse, and he was the
only person mounted, excepting the guards.

Our hero and his companions met the procession as it was just leaving
the palace, and they stood for a while to watch it pass. Gerald’s
associates were delighted at having arrived in time to witness it,
and Gerald was himself pleased with the sight, for he had never seen
anything of the kind before. But looking on it as a religious festival
he could not help feeling pained. These men he knew were about to fall
before images and offer up prayers to saints and angels, and they
would afterwards spend the sacred hours of the Sabbath in feasting and
drinking; for no religious festivals were at that time held in Russia
without feasting and drinking to excess. Happily for our young hero he
had been taught a purer faith. The Bible, Michael’s best inheritance
from his father, had not been made such poor use of, as to allow Gerald
to imbibe the superstitions, and practice the foolish ceremonies of the
Russians.




CHAPTER IX.

OUR HERO AT THE COURT OF PETER THE GREAT.


On entering the palace Gerald was at once taken to a comfortable
apartment, and supplied with refreshment. ‘Surely,’ thought he, ‘the
Czar has some kind intentions respecting me, or he would not give
orders that I should be treated in this manner;’ and he was much
relieved by this thought. Having finished his meal, he was conducted by
a domestic or slave (for all the domestics in Russia were slaves) to
one of the baths prepared for the household, and then to a wardrobe,
from whence a handsome robe was given him to put on in the place of his
sheepskin garments. He was further told that he would most likely be
summoned to attend on the Emperor in the evening.

The robe in which Gerald was arrayed was of dark green cloth, trimmed
with fur. It was loose and flowing, only confined round the waist by a
leathern girdle, in the manner of the dresses of the east. This kind of
dress was in fashion in Russia at that time, though Peter afterwards,
with some difficulty induced the Russian nobles and citizens to give it
up, and adopt the costumes of England and France.

The change was certainly a great improvement to our hero’s appearance;
and he began to wonder what all this would lead to.

With evening the expected summons came, and Gerald was conducted by a
superior officer of the household to the royal presence. The Emperor
was not now, as when our hero first saw him seated on a rude bench,
but on a throne of state. He did not wear the gorgeous robe in which
he had attended the church in the morning, for that was held sacred
to the occasion, but he was dressed in one equally splendid. A number
of nobles and ladies elegantly attired, stood on either side of the
throne, and the blaze of light which was thrown upon the company by
means of the brilliant chandeliers, gave the whole scene a dazzling
aspect.

The Czar and his suite were greatly amused at observing the wonder and
admiration which marked the expressive countenance of the youth, as he
entered the grand saloon. Gerald’s thoughts, were not however, long so
occupied, he was too much interested in ascertaining the object of his
summons there.

‘Ha! my lad,’ exclaimed the Czar, in a familiar tone, as Gerald bowed
low before the throne, ‘I’ve not forgotten you, you see. Well, how did
you get on at your new work?’

‘I hope, Sire,’ Gerald replied with modest dignity, ‘I hope, Sire, I
did my duty, and to the satisfaction of your Majesty’s officers.’

‘I’ve heard nothing to the contrary, at all events,’ said the Czar,
‘but what say you to leaving off that sort of work, and taking to
something else? Have you become so fond of it that you desire to end
your days at it?’

Gerald could not help smiling at this question. ‘Nay, Sire,’ he
replied, ‘I did my work cheerfully, because I felt it to be my duty to
do so, and I had moreover, an animating motive, but I should rejoice to
be engaged in some employment better suited to my taste.’

‘What employment would be suited to your taste?’ the Emperor asked.
‘Would you like to be a soldier?’

‘A soldier’s profession would not be quite suited to my taste, Sire,’
Gerald replied.

‘Why? it is thought to be the most honourable calling by many of my
subjects. I am a soldier, myself, but I wish not to put a restraint on
your inclination--nay, should you prefer following some useful art, I
would give you all encouragement. My nobles here know that I patronise
the useful arts, and have set them an example by working at some of
them myself.’

‘My inclination, Sire, has always been to pursue a studious life,’
Gerald ventured to say.

‘Ha!’ exclaimed the Czar, ‘I am now founding a university in Moscow,
would you like to enter it?’

‘That is what I desire above all things, Sire,’ Gerald replied with
great earnestness.

‘Your desire shall be gratified then,’ cried the Emperor, ’I wish to
serve you, but I had another object in bringing you here. I took notice
of the account you gave me at our former meeting of your singular
deliverance from shipwreck, and I think I have some clue to the
discovery of your family.’

Gerald looked up more earnestly than ever. ‘To enable me to discover my
kindred, would indeed, Sire, be conferring on me a favour beyond any
other,’ he exclaimed with great energy.

‘Can you write?’

‘Yes, Sire, I can write, though but indifferently. My good father,
Michael Kopt, taught me to write to the best of his ability.’

‘Good--make out a clear statement then of all you know concerning your
earlier history, in writing--be very particular as to dates, and send
the document to me. You may withdraw now. My servants will attend to
your comfort and provide you with anything you ask for.’

‘Oh! Sire,’ exclaimed the youth, bursting into a flood of tears, ’I
can find no words to express my gratitude. But my heart thanks you a
thousandfold.’

Peter was naturally a stern man, and not easily moved, but he could not
witness the youth’s emotions without feeling something like a response.

Gerald still lingered at the foot of the throne. ‘Will your Majesty
pardon me if I ask the addition of one favour more,’ he at length said,
‘it is, that I may be permitted to send a messenger to my friends
to let them know that I am here safe under your Majesty’s gracious
protection.’

‘Aye, if that will afford you pleasure,’ returned the emperor, smiling,
and he waved his hand in token of an adieu.




CHAPTER X.

A HAPPY DISCOVERY.


The slave who waited on Gerald, told him that he had orders from the
Czar to take him to any part of the palace and grounds he might wish
to see. He was told also, that if he would like to see the city, and
the public buildings, he should have an escort from the Emperor’s own
guards.

Our hero gladly availed himself of these offers, and thus spent several
days very pleasantly. He previously, however, complied with the Czar’s
request regarding the particulars of his early life.

It was but little that he knew of the matter; but that little he stated
with great clearness, both as respected time and place. Nor did he
fail to avail himself of the license given him by the Czar to send to
his friends. He wrote a brief account of all that had passed since his
removal, and cheered them with hopes of ere long seeing them again
under happier circumstances than when they had parted last.

Gerald had been at the palace about a week, when he received a message
from the Emperor, bidding him prepare himself for an interview with a
lady who, he said, had taken a great interest in his story. The officer
who delivered the message further informed him that the lady, whose
name was Madame Koski, was the widow of a Polish noble who had been
personally attached to the Czar; and that having lost her property in
Poland, she was now living on a pension which was allowed her by the
Emperor.

Our hero listened to these particulars with great eagerness; for
he could not help thinking that this lady was in some way connected
with his family, and that her interest for him was owing to that
circumstance.

‘It is possible,’ he said to himself, ‘that I am of Polish origin:’
his cheek grew flushed and his eye kindled at the thought. He
had occasionally heard portions of the history of that brave and
interesting people; and from some cause which he could not quite
account for himself, he felt deeply concerned in all that related to
them. The Emperor of Russia and the renowned King of Sweden, Charles
XII., had long been contending for power over the Poles; and the
principal question relating to that unhappy country seemed to be, which
of the two should be their master.

At one time the Czar gained the ascendancy for the King of Poland,
Frederick Augustus, who was also Elector of Saxony, was his friend and
ally. Again Charles XII. became the superior in power, and Frederick
Augustus was then obliged to abdicate the throne of Poland and retire
to Saxony, and Stanislaus Leczinski was chosen in his room--a measure
which gave no satisfaction to the declining nation.

Gerald awaited the arrival of Madame Koski with intense anxiety.
At length the door of the apartment was slowly opened, and a lady
dressed in the Polish fashion appeared, leaning on the arm of a female
domestic. She glanced hurriedly at Gerald, who immediately rose and
bowed. She then motioned with her hand for the attendant to withdraw,
and entered the room alone.

Madame Koski was still in the meridian of life; but ill-health and deep
grief had whitened her hair and left such marks upon her countenance
that she had the appearance of being rather advanced in years. She
entered the room with a trembling step, and sunk into the seat which
Gerald politely offered her.

‘Your name,’ she said with great effort, looking very earnestly in his
face.

‘My name, Madame, is Gerald,’ he replied; ‘but I am called Gerald Kopt,
from one Michael Kopt, who has been to me as a father.’

As the youth spoke, the lady became still more agitated. ‘It must be
so--I cannot be deceived,’ she murmured; ‘that brow--those eyes--the
voice--so like my own, own Gerald--you are--you must be my child.’ Here
she threw her arms round the boy’s neck, and burst into a flood of
tears.

‘Did I hear aright? Did you say you are my mother?’ exclaimed Gerald,
disengaging himself a little from her embrace, that he might look up in
her countenance to read her answer even before her tongue could speak
it.

‘I am,’ she answered in a calmer tone; ‘I lost an infant on the coast
of Russia at the very time stated in your document; and my heart tells
me you must be he.’

‘This is happiness beyond anything I could have expected,’ cried
Gerald, warmly returning her embrace. ‘I never hoped to find a mother
living.’

‘And I never hoped to find my long-lost child,’ replied the lady; ‘but
God is good, and his ways are wonderful.’

‘God has indeed been good to me, my mother,’ Gerald responded, now
twining his arm fondly round her neck; ‘he provided me with friends
who have been as parents to me, and he has by a wonderful providence,
brought me here. But tell me dear lady--dear mother,’ he added, his
countenance lighting up with great animation--‘tell me; is it true that
I am by birth a Pole?’

‘You are,’ Madame Koski replied; ‘your father was a Pole of noble
birth.’

‘I have learned to call those great and noble who perform great and
noble actions, dear lady,’ cried Gerald. ‘But I do rejoice in hearing
that I belong to that brave and patriotic land.’

‘Ours is a fallen country,’ said the lady despondingly. ‘As for
myself,’ she added, ‘I am obliged to live on the bounty of the man
who is desirous of holding my country in a state of thraldom; but the
circumstances which led to it are these:--Your father and the Czar met
in early youth; and your father had then an opportunity of rendering
the Emperor an essential service, which was repaid by an act of equal
generosity. Thus they were bound together by ties of gratitude.’

‘Ah! and the ties of gratitude are strong,’ Gerald warmly interposed.

‘They are, my son,’ said the lady. ‘Many years after, when Peter of
Russia and Charles of Sweden first contended for mastery over our
fallen country, your father and the Czar met once more. Your father
was then a prisoner in Peter’s camp, and I and my three children were
without a home. Under these circumstances, the Czar contrived to get
our children on board one of his ships, which was then about to sail up
the Baltic. I purposed joining them; but an accident preventing, the
ship set sail without me; and the children were only under the care of
a female slave who was their nurse. The next tidings I heard was, that
the vessel had been wrecked, and that every one on board had perished.’

Madame Koski wept as she related these particulars; nor could Gerald
listen to them without shedding tears also. ‘Then what became of my
father?’ he asked, with breathless interest.

‘The Czar generously gave him his liberty. Your father,’ she continued,
‘was one of those patriots who did not take part with either the Swedes
or the Russians; but who nobly stood out for Polish independence and
the right of electing a king for ourselves. This being the case, he
fared ill when Charles of Sweden got the mastery; and he would have
done the same when Peter of Russia had the supreme power, but for the
private friendship which I told you existed between him and the Czar.
He fell at last, however,’ and as she ceased, the lady buried her face
in her hands and wept afresh.

‘He fell in the defence of his country,’ asked Gerald.

‘He did, dear boy.’

‘I have told the Czar that I am desirous of pursuing a studious life,
and he has offered to place me in the University he has recently
founded in this city. But your tale, dear mother,’ added Gerald, ‘has
stirred feelings within me, which I scarcely knew that I possessed.
Surely it would be ignoble for me to live at ease in an enemy’s land,
when my own requires my services.’

‘I should have thought as you do, at one time, my son,’ replied the
lady; ‘but now I view the matter otherwise. Though there are many
gallant spirits still in Poland, the power of our conquerors is too
great for us. Nothing can be done for our unhappy country now, her
freedom is entirely lost.’




CHAPTER XI.

CONCLUSION.


Madame Koski now proceeded to question Gerald regarding his humble
friends, the fisherman and his wife, and nothing loth was he to talk of
them, and of their kindness to him. She listened with great interest to
his account of Michael’s being carried off to the public works, and of
his interview with the Czar, to plead for the exchange. She had heard
nothing of these particulars--she had only been told that a youth who
had been shipwrecked when an infant, near the mouth of the Neva, was
then, at the Emperor’s palace, and on her arrival, the paper which
Gerald had written out had been put into her hand. Peter, on first
seeing him, had himself been struck with the resemblance he bore to
his early friend, and when Gerald proceeded to give the account of the
wreck, he immediately surmised that the son of the Polish noble stood
before him.

Though Peter was a man of fierce passions, and had little feeling, he
was known to attach himself firmly to a few individuals. Madame Koski
and her son, therefore felt some confidence in the continuance of his
friendship and protection.

Gerald at last came to a determination to enter the University, though
his own inclination would now have led him to go to his native land,
and make a stand with the few brave men who would have joined him in
another struggle for independence. Indeed, he did not wholly relinquish
the idea, though he resolved at present on making the most of the
advantages offered him for education.

Previous, to his entering, however, he and his mother took a journey
to the village in which Michael and his wife were residing. Madame
Koski was anxious to see the worthy couple who had acted so kindly to
her son, that she might have an opportunity of expressing her deep
gratitude, and she and Gerald were both desirous of ascertaining
whether they could do anything to make the family more comfortable.

[Illustration]

The meeting was affecting, and it gave mutual pleasure. Madame Koski
was much pleased with the fisherman’s family, especially with Margaret,
towards whom she thought she could never show sufficient kindness in
return for the motherly part she had acted towards her friendless
infant. The good woman brought forward the clothes in which Gerald was
dressed when he was first cast upon their protecting care. And if any
further proof of his identity had been needful, the sight of them would
have quite satisfied Madame Koski that he was indeed her child. The
view of the clothes, however, called forth many painful recollections,
for though Gerald was restored to her, her two other children, who had
been equally dear were lost. She was affected too when told of the
careful manner in which the babe’s little ark had been enclosed, in
order to shelter him from the waters. ‘Poor Jaqueline,’ she said, with
tears in her eyes, ‘you were faithful to your charge to the very last.
Oh!’ she added, turning to her son, ‘what a wonderful providence has
followed thee, my child, from the moment I parted from thee, thou has
never wanted a mother’s tender care.’

Madame Koski was a christian woman. She had been taught in the rough
school of adversity, and she had learned, not only to submit with
patience to the ills of life, but to see God’s gracious and merciful
hand in all.

Madame Koski’s income was not very large, still she insisted on sharing
it with Michael and his wife, who really stood in need of aid, though
they were unwilling to receive it from her. The good couple had done
all without any hope or prospect of reward, but they both repeatedly
declared that Gerald had already more than repaid them for the services
they had rendered him by the generous sacrifice he had made, which had,
they said, been the means of saving Michael’s life.

Gerald returned with his mother to Moscow, and then commenced his
studies with a cheerful spirit. He lived to be a comfort to his widowed
parent, and an ornament to society; but he never had an opportunity of
serving his country beyond what he could do as a private individual.

Within two or three years of the time when the above related events
took place, Peter the Great once more gained ascendancy over the Poles,
by a victory he won over his rival Charles the Twelfth. In consequence
of this victory, Stanislaus was deposed and Frederick Augustus was
restored to the throne.

Most of our young readers are no doubt aware that Poland is no longer a
kingdom, but a Russian province. Subsequently to the period of which we
have been speaking, the fall of the Polish nation was rapid, and their
final overthrow took place about twenty years ago, under Nicholas, the
present Emperor of Russia.

It now remains for us, young readers, to inquire what moral may be
learned from the little history before us. Every book we read should
do something more than amuse the fancy and interest the feelings. It
should inform our minds and teach us some valuable lesson for practice.
We have seen that our hero’s generous action was made in the Providence
of God to lead to its own reward. Had he not sought an interview with
the Czar he would not have discovered his mother. Again we may observe,
that circumstances do not affect the conduct of individuals so as to
prevent the possibility of their performing noble deeds. The fisherman
and his wife practised generosity and kindness of the highest order,
lowly and poor though they were; and the seemingly disadvantageous
situation of the boy who was cast upon their bounty did not prevent
his achieving a truly heroic action. Think not, therefore, that your
circumstances, whatever they may be, shut you out from the exercise of
exalted virtues, for there are no circumstances, however unfavourable,
which exclude the performance of generous and self-denying deeds.

[Illustration]




LONDON:

RICHARD BARRETT, PRINTER, MARK LANE.




Transcriber’s Notes

A few minor errors in punctuation were fixed.

The spelling of Mentzikoff was standardized.

Page 9: “wont you?” changed to “won’t you?”