s in under hells must glow
Ere the volcano's scalding lavas rise,
Can none say; but all wot the hour is sure!
Who dreams of vengeance has but to endure!
He may not say how many blows must fall,
How many lives be broken on the wheel,
How many corpses stiffen 'neath the pall,
How many martyrs fix the blood-red seal;
But certain is the harvest time of Hate!
And when weak moans, by an indignant world
Re-echoed, to a throne are backward hurled,
Who listens hears the mutterings of Fate!_

[Illustration]

THE WHITE TERROR.

_I.--The Flogging of a Student._

(BY AN EYE-WITNESS--M. KIRILOV, OF THE "RUSS.")

December 18th. Near the Gorbaty Bridge, Moscow. A group of soldiers of
various arms and an officer. Great animation, jokes, cries,
gesticulation, contented faces. A student has fallen into their hands.

"Well, boys, make room," says the officer. "The performance begins!"

"Take off your trousers," says the officer, turning to the student. The
latter is pale, silent, and does not move.

"Trousers off!" cries the officer, in rage; but the student, without a
drop of blood in his face, whiter than the snow, does not move, but only
looks around in silence with horrified eyes and meets everywhere the
triumphant faces of his tormentors. He drops his head and remains silent
as before.

"Well, then, boys, we must assist our dear student; his hands, poor
thing, are frost bitten and do not obey."

The voice of the officer changes; it becomes sweet and smooth. He looks
at the student with pleasure.

"Take off his dear little trousers!" he orders his soldiers. The latter
unbutton and tear down his trousers. The student does not resist. Then
he is thrown on the ground.

"Give him beans, boys!"

Two powerfully-built soldiers step forward, holding whips in their
hands.

The flogging begins. It lasts a long time, accompanied by loud laughter,
jokes and noise. The student is silent all the time and lies with his
face buried in the snow. He is constantly being asked whether he feels
allright, and is kicked with the boots on his head.

"Halt!" cries the officer at last, when the whole body of the student
has been covered with blood. The excited soldiers do not leave off at
once, but continue for some time. At last they stop.

"Please, sir, won't you allow us, too, to have a little game?" smilingly
ask a couple of artillery soldiers, saluting the of