us," said they. "We thought you were an escaped convict; some
of them pass this way."

Henceforward, he dared not seek the shelter of a house. From the
middle of February to the beginning of April, in the midst of one of
the severest winters ever known, his couch was in the snow. Frozen
bread was his food for days together, and the absence of warm aliments
brought him face to face with the terrible spectres of cold and
hunger. The Urals were reached, and he began to climb their wooded
heights. On passing through a little village at nightfall, a voice
cried: "Who is there?"

"A traveler."

"Well, would you like to come and sleep here?"

"May God recompense you, yes; if it will not inconvenience you."

An aged couple lived there--good people, who prepared a meagre repast,
which seemed a feast to Piotrowski: the greatest comfort of all being
that he could take off his clothes.

[Illustration: SIBERIAN EXILES.]

They gave him his breakfast, and would not accept any remuneration
but his warm and cordial thanks.

One evening Piotrowski's life was nearly extinct. The way was lost,
the hail pierced his skin, his supply of bread was exhausted, and
after vainly dragging his weary limbs, he fell into a kind of torpor.
A loud voice roused him--"What are you doing here?"

"I am making a pilgrimage to the monastery of Solovetsk, but the storm
prevented my seeing the track, and I have not eaten for several days."

"It is not surprising. We who live on the spot often wander away.
There, drink that."

The speaker gave him a bottle containing some brandy, which burned him
so fearfully, that in his pain he danced about.

"Now try to calm yourself," said the good Samaritan, giving him some
bread and dried fish, which Piotrowski ate ravenously, saying--"I
thank you with all my heart. May God bless you for your goodness."

"Ah, well, do not say so much; we are both Christians. Now, try to
walk a little."

He was a trapper; and led him into the right path, pointing out a
village inn where he could get rest and refreshment. Piotrowski
managed to crawl to the place, and then fainted away. When he
recovered himself, he asked for radish-soup, but could not swallow it;
and toward noon he fell asleep on the bench, never awaking until the
same time on the next day, when the host roused him. Sleep, rest, and
warmth restored him, and he again started on his long pilgrimage.

The town of Veliki-Ustiug was reached, where he determined