me at the railway station.

Immediately I left, Elzas Kazelia, the _kosher_ Jew, went to the
police, and informed them that I and my family were running away from
Russia, and were going to London; and we were at once arrested, and
thrown bag and baggage into a filthy cell, lighted only by an iron
grating in the door. No food or drink was allowed us, as though we
were the greatest criminals. Such is Russian humanity, to starve
innocent people. The little provender we had in a bag scarcely kept us
from fainting with hunger. On the second day Kazelia sent two Jews
with beards. Suddenly I heard the door unlock, and they appeared
saying: 'We have come to do you a favour, but not for nothing. If your
life and the lives of your family are dear to you, we advise you to
give the police seventy roubles, and we want ten roubles for our
kindness, and you must employ Kazelia to take you over the frontier
for eighty roubles, otherwise the police will not be bribed. If you
refuse, you are lost.'

Well, how could I answer? How could one give away the last kopeck and
arrive penniless in a strange land? Every rouble taken from us was
like a piece of our life. So my people and I began to weep and to beg
for pity. 'Have compassion,' we cried. Answered they: 'In a frontier
town compassion dwells not. Give money. That will bring compassion.'
And they slammed the door, and we were locked in once more. Tears and
cries helped nothing. My children wept agonizedly. Oh, truth, truth!
Russia, Russia! How scurvily you handle the guiltless! For an
enlightened land to be thus!

'Father, father,' the children said, 'give away everything so that we
die not in this cell of fear and hunger.'

But even had I wished, I could do nothing from behind barred doors.
Our shouting was useless. At last I attracted a warder who was
watching in the corridor. 'Bring me a Jew,' I cried; 'I wish to tell
him of our plight.' And he answered: 'Hold your peace if you don't
want your teeth knocked out. Recognise that you are a prisoner. You
know well what is required of you.'

Yes, I thought, my money or my life.

On the third day our sufferings became almost insupportable, and the
Russian cold seized on our bodies, and our strength began to fail. We
looked upon the cell as our tomb, and on Kazelia as the Angel of
Death. Here, it seemed, we were to die of hunger. We lost hope of
seeing the sun. For well we know Russia. Who seeks Truth finds Death
more easily. As the