an yet, you know."

The soldier stared at him for a moment, and then began to laugh.

"Well, my boy, I don't think you'll find many big words on this paper;
it's pretty plain sailing so far as it goes. See if you can read it."

Karl took the paper, and read it off easily enough.

"Well done, my fine fellow!" cried the Russian; "you're a smart lad for
your age, I can see that. Now try if you can put it into German."

To work went our hero, with a look as solemn as any professor on his
little round face. Once or twice he stopped as if at a loss for a word;
but he got through at last, and having finished the German, began upon
the Swedish.

"What? do you know Swedish too?" cried his new friend. "Why, man, you're
a perfect dictionary!"

"My mother was a Swede," answered Osterman, "and she taught me her own
language; and my father was a German, and he taught me his."

"You're a lucky fellow!" said the Russian, with a sigh. "I only wish I'd
had some one to teach me when I was your age, I should know a great deal
more than I do."

"What? didn't your father teach you, then?"

"He died when I was a mere child," said the Russian, sadly, "and my
mother, too."

"Oh dear, I'm _so_ sorry! But had you no brothers or sisters?"

"I had a brother, but he was blind, poor fellow, and couldn't help me;
and as for my sister" (here his face darkened fearfully), "instead of
being kind to me, she tried to have me killed!"

"What a shame!" cried the boy, indignantly, clinching a fist about the
size of a large plum. "I only wish _I_'d been your brother!--I wouldn't
have let anybody touch you!"

This valiant promise of protection, made by a tiny boy to a stalwart
soldier of six feet three, tickled the other emigrants so much that they
burst into a roar of laughter which made the old walls ring. But the
soldier did not laugh; he only passed his hand tenderly over the child's
curly head, and then stooped to look at the book which Karl had been
reading.

"Ah! the story of Ilia the Strong. I used to be very fond of it when I
was a boy. How do you like it?"

"Very much indeed. I didn't think I'd have time to finish it, when they
said the Czar was coming to look at us; but I suppose he's too busy
amusing himself to care about us poor fellows."

The soldier gave such a terrible frown that the men nearest him started
back in dismay, and even Osterman himself looked startled. But the next
moment the Russian's face cleared again, though