ere she should speak herself to
our protector's older brother who could help us by means of his great
power among the officers of high rank; that she returned in a few hours
and told us the two brothers were equal in kindness, for the older one,
too, said he would not wait to be asked to do his best for us. I
remember that another day--so-o-o long--passed behind the mist, and we
were still in that dreadful, noisy, tiresome depot, with no change, till
we went to spend the night at Herr Schidorsky's, because they wouldn't
let us go anywhere else. On the way there, I remember, I saw something
marvellous--queer little wooden sticks stuck on the lines where clothes
hung for some purpose. (I didn't think it was for drying, because you
know I always saw things hung up on fences and gates for such purposes.
The queer things turned out to be clothes-pins). And, I remember, I
noticed many other things of equal importance to our affairs, till we
came to the little house in the garden. Here we were received, I
remember with much kindness and hospitality. We had a fire made for us,
food and drink brought in, and a servant was always inquiring whether
anything more could be done for our comfort.

I remember, still through that misty veil, what a pleasant evening we
passed, talking over what had so far happened, and wondering what would
come. I must have talked like one lost in a thick fog, groping
carefully. But, had I been shut up, mentally, in a tower nothing else
could pierce, the sense of gratitude that naturally sprung from the
kindness that surrounded us, must have, would have found a passage for
itself to the deepest cavities of the heart. Yes, though all my senses
were dulled by what had passed over us so lately, I was yet aware of the
deepest sense of thankfulness one can ever feel. I was aware of
something like the sweet presence of angels in the persons of good
Schidorsky and his family. Oh, that some knowledge of that gratitude
might reach those for whom we felt it so keenly! We all felt it. But the
deepest emotions are so hard to express. I thought of this as I lay
awake a little while, and said to myself, thinking of our benefactor,
that he was a Jew, a true "Son of Mercy." And I slept with that thought.
And this is the last I remember seeing and feeling behind that mist of
lazy inactivity.

The next morning, I woke not only from the night's sleep, but from my
waking dreaminess. All the vapors dispersed as I went into