of exiles, and they would
not, dared not, question the appearance of the newcomer.

As before stated, there was but little to do; in fact. It was little
better than a hospital for favored or dying ones, and so they wondered
for a little while, and then resolved themselves into the same idiotic
company they had become to be.

Barnwell comprehended the situation, and resolved to fit himself to it,
for he was buoyed up with a hope of release which the others might once
have had, but which they did not have now.

He tried to speak with them, but not one of them appeared to understand
English; and after his first day in this department he began to lose
heart, and had it not been for the hope which buoyed him up, he might
have fallen as low as any of the others there.

On the third day he was given the position of servant to the surgeon,
and as he spoke some English, he found it comparatively easy to get
along with him, although, of course, he had great difficulty in any
position, on account of his not being able to speak the abominable
Russian.

The hospital for dying or disabled exiles was a most barbarous place,
more like a black hole than a hospital, its principal object being, it
seemed, to hurry prisoners out of the world, after they had become
incapacitated by age, sickness, or accident for working in the mines.

There were hundreds of those miserable wretches there, in all states of
conditions, and dozens a week were carted away, and to whom death was a
welcome change.

Barnwell was horrified by the sights which met his eyes, and the sounds
which racked his ears; but the thought that he would not have to remain
there long gave him strength to bear up and endure the pitiful sights.

The surgeon took quite a fancy to him, and did all he could to teach him
the Russian language, so that he might be more useful. But not having
the time to devote, he sent him to an old man by the name of Batavsky,
who spoke both English and Russian.

"He will teach you if he likes you, but if not he will not speak a
word," said he.

"Who and what is he?" asked Barnwell.

"Peter Batavsky has been here over thirty years--sent here for
conspiracy against Czar Nicholas. He has worked in the mines until
within the last fifteen months, since which time he has gone mad, and
the governor ordered him here."

"Taking lessons of a madman!"

"Well, I am not certain he will give you any at all. He is rational
enough at times to do so if