As Seen By Me

n, and although he was only the manager of an hotel, we lay it up a

se tickets. But as her faultless German generally brings us soap when she orders coffee, and hot water when she calls for ice, I am not so severe upon the stupidity of the porter as she is. However, when he came back and asked for fifty-five marks extra luggage to St. Petersburg we gave a wail, and e

de one he will be that one. He said he was sorry, but that, doubtless, when we got to the Russian frontier we could explain matters and get our trunks. But we could not speak Russian, we told him, and we wanted things prope

our hotel all alone at eleven o'clock at night with their lugga

d do nothing. Doubtless we could arrange things at the frontier. It was within ten minutes of train time, and we were su

n, and she looked at me

tesy of walking across the street with

ould have killed him. I am sorry now that

r Poland, with our trunks safely checked through to S

again, "Did you ever in all your life!" Yet there was no sameness in my ears to her

ng a woman. I couldn't seem to get it through my head. But now that it had happened to me-now that a man had deliberately refused to cross the street-no farther, mind you!-to get us out of such a

never ge

cidentally carrying our hand-luggage), and when he had the impertinence to demand more I turned on him and assured him that if he dared to speak another word to us we would report him to His Excellency the American Ambassador, who was on intimate terms with the Kaiser

d. "It was all my fault. But we may get our trunks, any

e spend a week as guests in a ho

ain at Vilna we would give up our visit and telegraph our excuses and regrets to our expectant hostess,

efore, a dreary day. By letting my companion manage the customs officers in patomime we got through the

k in the afternoon, and we found ourselves promenading through the bleakest of winter landscapes. Tiny cottages, emitting a bright red glow from infinitesimal windows, crouche

Pardon me, sir, but do you speak English?" And a deep voice, which I knew without seeing him

tment, and there stood a tall Russian officer in his gray

her. I only remembered that here was some one to whom I could talk, and in two minutes this handsome Russian had untangled my incoherent explanations, had taken our luggage receipt, and had assured us that he himself would

sledges, we were stowed into the most comfortable of equipages, and in an hour we we

that the young Tzar of Russia has done away, either by public ukase or private advice, with the worst of

essential knowledge is perennial and deep-seated. But, somehow, facts are the most elusive things I have to contend with. I can only seem to get a firm grasp on the imag

ellous family affection, the respect they pay to their women; to feel all the charm of their broad culture and noble sympathy for all that ma

m land for almost nothing in order to infuse German blood, German language, German customs into a conquered land. It does not touch one's sympathies very much to know that Austria is the on

lowed to buy one foot of land in the country where they were born and bred, are not permitted to hold office even when elected, are prohibited from speaking their own language in public, are forbidden to sing their Polish hymns, or to take children

feast-days. These two were by public ukase, and as the Poles are passionately grateful for any act of kindness, one hears nothing but good words for the Tzar, and there is the utmost feeling of loyalty to him among them. I hear it constantly said that if he continue in this generous policy Russia need never apprehend another Polish revolution. And whi

l from the street corners, the shops, the railroad stations, and the club

, the other day two Russians were overheard in the train to say: "For thirty years we have tried to force our religion on the Poles, our language on the P

ther, but remained at the death of the late Tzar only a Colonel. When urged by his councillors to make himself General, as became a Tzar of all the Russias, he said:

oned very closely about our charities in America, especially in Chicago, and I have given them all the working plans of the college settlements, the kindergartens, and the sewing-schools. The Poles are a wonderfully sympathetic and warm-hearted people, and are anxious to ameliorat

had hoped for her, and has taken a friend who was at the head of a London training-school for nurses to live with her upon her estates, and these two have consecrated their lives to th

und individuality. Polish girls are more like American girls. If you ask a young English girl what she thinks of Victor Hugo she tells you that her mamma do

respect they resemble American girls, but only in this respect, for whereas there is a type of Polish young girl-and a charming type she is-I never in m

e in the sweetest way to call them by their first names without any prefix. They were charming. They taught us the Polish mazurka-a dance which has more go to it than any dance I ever saw. It requires the Auditorium ball-r

four tall, impressive, and almost majestic, with a curious hawk-like quality in their glance, which may be an inheritance from their warrior forefathers. Count Antoine comes in just before going home to dine, while we are all assembled and dressed for dinner. He flings the door open, and makes his military bo

ating, and a man who is truly fascinating in the highest sense of the word; one whose character is worth study, a

ide genius came from so small a nation. But now that I have had the opportunity of knowing them

articulate or not. You feel that they could all do things if they tried. They are a sympathetic, interesting, interested, and, above all, a magnetic people. This forms the top soil for a nation which has put forth so much of

r bitterness of spirit, their longing for revenge now no longer find an outlet on the battlefield. Yet it smoulders continually in their innermost being. You must crush the heart, you must subdue a people, you must be no stranger to angu