Name: Class: Date:

PowerPoint Module 6: Enhancing Charts

Illustrated Course Guide Microsoft Office 365 and

PowerPoint 2016 Advanced Spiral bound Version
1st Edition Beskeen 1305878531 9781305878532
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1. Excel is integrated with PowerPoint.

a. True
b. False
ANSWER: True
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: PowerPoint 122
Work with Charts in PowerPoint
QUESTION TYPE: True / False
HAS VARIABLES: False
LEARNING OBJECTIVES: OFFI.PARS.13.161 - Explain PowerPoint charts
DATE CREATED: 3/1/2016 12:08 PM
DATE MODIFIED: 3/1/2016 12:08 PM

2. When you create an Excel chart in PowerPoint, you can perform advanced commands on Excel data in the worksheet
window in PowerPoint.
a. True
b. False
ANSWER: False
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: PowerPoint 122
Work with Charts in PowerPoint
QUESTION TYPE: True / False
HAS VARIABLES: False
LEARNING OBJECTIVES: OFFI.PARS.13.161 - Explain PowerPoint charts
DATE CREATED: 3/1/2016 12:08 PM
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PowerPoint Module 6: Enhancing Charts

DATE MODIFIED: 3/1/2016 12:08 PM

3. Excel charts can be embedded or linked in PowerPoint.

a. True
b. False
ANSWER: True
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: PowerPoint 122
Work with Charts in PowerPoint
QUESTION TYPE: True / False
HAS VARIABLES: False
LEARNING OBJECTIVES: OFFI.PARS.13.161 - Explain PowerPoint charts
DATE CREATED: 3/1/2016 12:08 PM
DATE MODIFIED: 3/1/2016 12:08 PM

4. You can add trendlines and error bars to a chart.

a. True
b. False
ANSWER: True
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: PowerPoint 122
Work with Charts in PowerPoint
QUESTION TYPE: True / False
HAS VARIABLES: False
DATE CREATED: 3/1/2016 12:08 PM
DATE MODIFIED: 5/2/2016 9:01 PM

5. A linked chart is saved as a separate file.

a. True
b. False
ANSWER: True
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: PowerPoint 122
Work with Charts in PowerPoint
QUESTION TYPE: True / False
HAS VARIABLES: False
LEARNING OBJECTIVES: OFFI.PARS.13.161 - Explain PowerPoint charts
DATE CREATED: 3/1/2016 12:08 PM
DATE MODIFIED: 3/1/2016 12:08 PM

6. To change PowerPoint settings, click File on the Ribbon, then click Preferences.
a. True
b. False

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PowerPoint Module 6: Enhancing Charts

ANSWER: False
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: Format Chart Elements
PowerPoint 129
QUESTION TYPE: True / False
HAS VARIABLES: False
DATE CREATED: 5/2/2016 9:59 PM
DATE MODIFIED: 5/2/2016 10:01 PM

7. The Chart Styles button allows you to show or hide axes, labels, or gridlines.
a. True
b. False
ANSWER: False
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: PowerPoint 122
Work with Charts in PowerPoint
QUESTION TYPE: True / False
HAS VARIABLES: False
LEARNING OBJECTIVES: OFFI.PARS.13.161 - Explain PowerPoint charts
DATE CREATED: 3/1/2016 12:08 PM
DATE MODIFIED: 3/1/2016 12:08 PM

8. If your presentation is closed when you update a linked object, a security dialog box opens the next time you open the
presentation.
a. True
b. False
ANSWER: True
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: PowerPoint 136
Update a Linked Excel Worksheet
QUESTION TYPE: True / False
HAS VARIABLES: False
DATE CREATED: 5/3/2016 10:00 AM
DATE MODIFIED: 5/3/2016 10:02 AM

9. The Chart Styles button provides chart styles and color themes you can apply to charts.
a. True
b. False
ANSWER: True
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: PowerPoint 122
Work with Charts in PowerPoint
QUESTION TYPE: True / False

Copyright Cengage Learning. Powered by Cognero. Page 3

Name: Class: Date:

PowerPoint Module 6: Enhancing Charts

HAS VARIABLES: False
LEARNING OBJECTIVES: OFFI.PARS.13.161 - Explain PowerPoint charts
DATE CREATED: 3/1/2016 12:08 PM
DATE MODIFIED: 3/1/2016 12:08 PM

10. You can use a picture as a slide background for one or more slides.
a. True
b. False
ANSWER: True
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: Animate a Chart
PowerPoint 131
QUESTION TYPE: True / False
HAS VARIABLES: False
DATE CREATED: 5/2/2016 10:13 PM
DATE MODIFIED: 5/2/2016 10:15 PM

11. To change the chart colors, click the Change Colors button in the Chart Format group.
a. True
b. False
ANSWER: False
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: Change Chart Design and Style
PowerPoint 124
QUESTION TYPE: True / False
HAS VARIABLES: False
DATE CREATED: 5/2/2016 9:26 PM
DATE MODIFIED: 5/2/2016 9:28 PM

12. Minor gridlines can also be identified by a tick mark.

a. True
b. False
ANSWER: True
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: Customize a Chart
PowerPoint 126
QUESTION TYPE: True / False
HAS VARIABLES: False
LEARNING OBJECTIVES: OFFI.PARS.13.162 - Apply tick marks
DATE CREATED: 3/1/2016 12:08 PM
DATE MODIFIED: 3/1/2016 12:08 PM

13. If you animate a chart’s data markers as a series, the entire data series is animated as a group.

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Name: Class: Date:

PowerPoint Module 6: Enhancing Charts

a. True
b. False
ANSWER: True
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: Animate a Chart
PowerPoint 130
QUESTION TYPE: True / False
HAS VARIABLES: False
LEARNING OBJECTIVES: OFFI.PARS.13.163 - Animate chart data markers
DATE CREATED: 3/1/2016 12:08 PM
DATE MODIFIED: 3/1/2016 12:08 PM

14. You can embed all or part of an Excel worksheet in a PowerPoint slide.
a. True
b. False
ANSWER: True
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: Embed an Excel Chart
PowerPoint 133
QUESTION TYPE: True / False
HAS VARIABLES: False
DATE CREATED: 5/2/2016 10:36 PM
DATE MODIFIED: 5/2/2016 10:39 PM

15. The object you create with a source program is called the destination file.
a. True
b. False
ANSWER: False
POINTS: 1
REFERENCES: Embed an Excel Chart
PowerPoint 132
QUESTION TYPE: True / False
HAS VARIABLES: False
LEARNING OBJECTIVES: OFFI.PARS.13.164 - Insert an Excel chart
DATE CREATED: 3/1/2016 12:08 PM
DATE MODIFIED: 3/1/2016 12:08 PM

16. A linked object is stored in its source file.

a. True
b. False
ANSWER: True
POINTS: 1

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The Project Gutenberg eBook of Sasha the serf, and other
stories of Russian life
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
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Title: Sasha the serf, and other stories of Russian life

Author: Anonymous

Release date: July 29, 2022 [eBook #68643]

Language: English

Original publication: United Kingdom: Blackie & Son, 1882

Credits: Al Haines

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SASHA THE

SERF, AND OTHER STORIES OF RUSSIAN LIFE ***
Sasha warns the Baron. Page 32
 SASHA THE SERF:
AND

OTHER STORIES OF RUSSIAN LIFE.

LONDON:
BLACKIE & SON, 49 OLD BAILEY, E.C.;
GLASGOW, EDINBURGH, AND DUBLIN.
 CONTENTS.

Sasha the Serf

The Coolest Man in Russia

Katinka, the Peasant Maid

Three Kopecks

The Devil in the Mine

A Bear-Hunt in Russia

A Story of Peter the Great

SASHA THE SERF.

CHAPTER I.

It was towards the close of a September day. Old Gregor and his
grandson Sasha were returning home through the forest with their
bundles of wood, the old man stooping low under the weight of the
heavier pieces he carried, while the boy dragged his great bunch of twigs
and splints by a rope drawn over his shoulder. Where the trees grew thick
the air was already quite gloomy, but in the open spaces they could see
the sky and tell how near it was to sunset.

Both were silent, for they were tired, and it is not easy to talk and
carry a heavy load at the same time. But presently something gray
appeared through the trees at the foot of a low hill; it was the rock where
they always rested on their way home. Old Gregor laid down his bundle
there, and wiped his face on the sleeve of his brown jacket, but Sasha
sprang upon the rock and began to balance himself upon one foot, as was
his habit whenever he tried to think about anything.

"Grandfather," he said at last, "why should all this forest belong to the
baron, and none of it to you?"

Gregor looked at him sharply for a moment before he answered.

"It was his father's and his grandfather's: it has been the property of
the family for many a hundred years, and we never had any."

"I know that, grandfather," said Sasha. "But why did it come so at
first?"

Gregor shook his head. "You might as well ask how the world was
made." Then, seeing that the boy looked troubled, he added in a kinder
tone, "Sasha, what put such a thought into your head?"

"Why, the forest itself!" replied the boy. "The baron lets us have the
top branches and little twigs, but he takes all the great logs and trunks,
and sells them for money. I know all the trees, and he does not; I can find
my way in the woods anywhere, and there's many a tree that would say
to me, if it could talk, 'I'd rather belong to you, Sasha, than to the baron,
because I know you, and I don't know him.'"

"Ay, and the moon would say the same to you, boy, and the sun and
the stars, maybe. You might as well want to own them—and you don't
even belong to yourself!"

Gregor's words seemed harsh and fierce, but his voice was very sad.
The boy looked at him and knew not what to say, but his heart beat
violently. All at once he heard a rustle among the dead leaves, and a
sound as if of footsteps approaching. The old man took hold of his
grandson's arm, and made a sign for him to be silent. The sound came
nearer and nearer, and presently they could distinguish some dusky
object moving towards them through the trees.

"Is it a robber?" whispered the boy.

 "It is not a man, unless he uses his knees for hind feet. I see his head;
it is a bear. Keep quiet, boy! make no noise: take this stick, but hold it at
your side as I do mine. If he comes close, look him firmly in the face;
and if I tell you to strike, hit him on the end of the nose."

It was indeed a full-grown bear, marching slowly on his great flat feet.
He was not more than thirty yards distant when he saw them, and
stopped. Both kept their eyes fixed upon his head, but did not move.
Then he came a few paces nearer, and Sasha tried hard not to show that
he was trembling inwardly, more, however, from excitement than fear.
The bear gazed steadily at them for what seemed a long time, and there
was an expression of anger, but also of stupid bewilderment, in his eyes.
Finally he gave a sniff and a grunt, tossed up his nose, and walked
slowly on, stopping once or twice to turn and look back before he
disappeared from view. Sasha lifted his stick and shook it at him. He felt
that he should never again be much afraid of bears.

"Now, boy," said his grandfather, "you have learned how to face
danger. I have been as near to a loaded cannon as to that bear, and the
wind of the ball threw me upon my face: but I was up the next moment,
and then the gunner went down! Our colonel saw it, and I remember
what he said—ay, every word! He would have kept his promise, but we
carried him from the field next day, and that was the end of the matter. It
was in France that it happened."

"Grandfather," asked the boy suddenly, "are there forests in France,

and do they belong to barons?"

"Pick up your faggot, boy, and come along!" said Gregor. "It will be
dark before we get to the village, and the potatoes are cooked by this
time."

The mention of the potatoes revived all Sasha's forgotten hunger, and
he obeyed in silence. After walking for a mile as rapidly as their loads
would permit them, they issued from the forest, and saw the wooden
houses of the village on a green knoll, in the last gleams of sunset. The
church, with its three little copper-covered domes, stood on the highest
point. Next to it the priest's house and garden, and then began the broad
street, lined with square log-cabins and adjoining stables, sloping down
to a large pond, at the foot of which was a mill. Beyond the water there
was a great stretch of grazing meadow, then long rolling fields of rye and
barley, extending to the woods which bounded the view in every
direction. The village was situated within a few miles of the great main
highway running from Warsaw to Moscow, and the waters of the lake fed
the stream which flowed into one of the branches of the river Dnieper.

The whole region, including the village and nearly all the people in it,
belonged to the estate of Baron Popoff, the roofs of whose residence
were just visible to the southward, on a hill overlooking the road to
Moscow. The former castle had been entirely destroyed during the retreat
of Bonaparte's army, and the baron's grandfather suffered so many losses
at the time, that he was only able to build a large and very plain modern
house; but the people continued to call it the "Castle" or "Palace," just as
before.

Although the baron sold every year great quantities of timber, grain,
hemp and wool from his estates, he always seemed to be in want of
money. The servants who went with him every year to St. Petersburg
were very discreet, and said little about their master's habits of life; but
the people understood, somehow, that he often lost large sums by
gambling. This gave them a good deal of uneasiness, for if he should be
obliged to part with the estate, they would all be transferred with it to a
new owner—and this might be one who had other estates in a different
part of the country, to which he could send them if he was so minded.

At the time of which we are writing twenty-two millions of the

Russian people were serfs. Their labour, even their property, belonged to
the owner of the land upon which they lived. The latter had not the
power to sell them to another, as was formerly the case in the Southern
States of America, but he could remove them from one estate to another
if he had several. Baron Popoff was a haughty and indifferent master, but
not a cruel one; the people of the village had belonged to his family for
several generations, and were accustomed to their condition. At least,
they saw no way of changing it, except by a change of masters, which
was more likely to be a misfortune than a benefit.

It was nearly dark when old Gregor and his grandson threw down
their loads and entered the house. The supper was already waiting, for
Sasha's sister, little Minka, had been up to the church door to see whether
they were coming. In one corner of the room a tiny lamp was burning
before a picture of the Virgin Mary and Child Jesus, all covered with
gilded brass except the hands and faces, which were nearly black, partly
from the smoke, and partly because the common Russian people imagine
that the Hebrews were a very dark-skinned race. Sasha's father, Ivan, had
also lighted a long pine-splint, and the room looked very cheerful. The
boiled potatoes were smoking in a great wooden bowl, beside which
stood a dish of salt, another of melted fat, and a loaf of black bread. They
had neither plates, knives nor forks, only some coarse wooden spoons,
and all ate out of the bowl, after the salt had been sprinkled and the fat
poured over the potatoes. For drink there was an earthen pitcher of quass,
a kind of thin and rather sour beer.

Old Gregor sat on one side of the table, and his son Ivan with Anna,
his wife, opposite. There were five children, the eldest being Alexander
(whom we know by his nickname "Sasha," which is the Russian for
"Aleck" or "Sandy"), then Minka, Peter, Waska, and Sergius. Sasha was
about thirteen years old, rather small for his age, and hardly to be called
a handsome boy. Only there was something very pleasant in his large
gray eyes, and his long, thick flaxen hair shone almost like silver when
the sun fell upon it. However, he never thought about his looks. When he
went to the village bath-house, on a Saturday evening, to take his steam-
bath with the rest, the men would sometimes say, after examining his
joints and muscles, "You are going to be strong, Sasha!"—and that was
as much as he cared to know about himself.

The boy was burning with desire to tell the adventure with the bear,
but he did not like to speak before his grandfather, and there was
something in the latter's eye which made him feel that he was watching
him. Gregor first lighted his pipe, and then, in the coolest manner
possible—as if it were something that happened every day—related the
story.

"Pity I hadn't your gun with me, Ivan," he said at the close; "what
with the meat, the fat, and the skin, we should have had thirty roubles."

The children were quite noisy with excitement. Little Peter said,
"What for did you let him go, Sasha? I'd have killed him, and carried him
home!" Then all laughed so heartily that Peter began to cry, and was
soon packed into a box in the corner, where he was soon as fast asleep as
ever was the proverbial door-nail.

"Take the gun with you to-morrow, father." said Ivan.

 "It's too much with my load of wood," answered the old man. "The
old hunting-knife is all I want. Sasha will stand by me with a club: I
don't think he'll be afraid next time."

Sasha was about to exclaim, "I was not afraid the first time!" but
before he spoke it flashed across his mind that he did tremble a little; but
he consoled himself a little that it was not from fear.

By this time it was dark outside. Two pine-splints had burned out, one
after the other, and only the little lamp before the shrine enabled those
present to see each other. The old people went to bed in their narrow
rooms, which were hardly better than closets; and Sasha, spreading a
coarse sack of straw on the floor, lay down, covering himself with his
sheepskin coat, and in five minutes was so sound asleep that he might
have been dragged about by the heels without being awakened.

CHAPTER II.

Next day in the forest old Gregor worked more rapidly than usual. He
spoke very little, in spite of Sasha's eagerness to talk, and kept the boy so
busy that all the wood was gathered up and made into bundles two or
three hours before the usual time.

They were in a partially cleared spot, near the top of some rising
ground. The old man looked at the sky, nodded his head, and said with a
satisfied air, "We have plenty of time left for ourselves, Sasha; come
with me, and I'll show you something."

Gregor then set out in a direction opposite from home, and the boy,
who expected nothing less than the finding of another bear, seized a
tough straight club, and followed him. They went for nearly a mile over
rolling ground through the forest, and then descended into a narrow glen,
at the foot of which ran a rapid stream. Very soon rocks began to appear
on both sides, and the glen became a chasm where there was barely room
to walk. It was a cold, gloomy, strange place; Sasha had never seen
anything like it. He felt a singular creeping of the flesh, but not for the
world would he have turned back.
 The path ceased, and there was a waterfall in front filling up the
whole chasm. Gregor pulled off his boots and stepped into the stream,
which reached nearly to his knees; he gave his hand to Sasha, who could
hardly have walked alone against the force of the current. They reached
the foot of the fall, the spray of which was whirled into their faces. Then
Gregor turned suddenly to the left, passed through the thin edge of the
falling water, and Sasha, pulled after him, found himself in a low arched
vault of rock, into which the light shone down from another opening.
They crawled upwards on hands and knees, and came out into a great
circular hole, like a kettle, through the middle of which ran the stream.
There was no other way of getting into it, for the rocks leaned inward as
they rose, making the bottom considerably wider than the top.

On one side, under the middle of the rocky arch, stood a square black
stone about five feet high, with a circle of seven smaller stones
resembling seats around it. Sasha was dumb with surprise at finding
himself in such a wonderful spot.

But old Gregor made the sign of the cross, and muttered something
which seemed to be like a prayer. Then he went to the black stone, and
put his hand upon it.

"Sasha," he said, "this is one of the places where the old Russian
people came many thousand years ago, before ever the name of Christ
was heard of. They were dreadful heathens in those days, and this place
was what served them for a church. A black stone had to be the altar,
because they had a black god, who was never satisfied unless they fed
him with human flesh."

"Where is the black god now?" asked Sasha.

"They say he has turned into an evil spirit, and is hiding somewhere in
the wilderness; but I cannot say for the truth of it. His name was Perun.
Most men do not care to say it, but I have the courage, because I've been
a soldier and have an honest conscience. Are you afraid to stand here?"
asked Gregor inquiringly.

"Not if you are not, grandfather," answered Sasha, bravely but

respectfully.
 "If your heart were bad and false, Sasha, you would have reason to be
afraid; but as I know it is not, you can come here without fear of danger."

Sasha obeyed. The old man opened the boy's coarse shirt and laid his
hand upon his heart; then he made him do the same to himself, so that
the heart of each beat directly against the hand of the other.

"Now, boy," said Gregor, after a pause, "I am going to trust you, and if
you say a word you do not mean, or think otherwise than you speak, I
shall feel it in the motion of your heart. Do you know the difference
between a serf and a free-man? Would you rather live like your father,
having nothing that he can call his own, or would you live like the Baron
Popoff, with wealth, and houses, and lands, and forests, and people, that
no one could take from you, except, perhaps, the emperor?"

Sasha's heart gave a great thump before he could open his mouth. The
old man smiled, and he said to himself, "I was right." Then he continued:
"I should be a free man now, if our colonel had lived. Your father had not
wit and courage enough to try, but you can do it, Sasha, if you think of
nothing else and work for nothing else. I will help you all I can; but you
must begin at once. Will you?"

"Yes, grandfather, yes!" exclaimed Sasha eagerly.

"Promise me that you will say nothing to any living person; that you
will obey me and remember all I say to you while I live, and be none the
less faithful to the purpose when I am dead!"

Sasha promised everything at once. After a moment's silence Gregor

took his hand from the boy's breast, and said:

"Yes, you truly mean it. The people of old used to say that if any one
broke a promise made before this stone, the black heathen god would
have power over him."

"Perhaps the bear was the black god," suggested Sasha.

"Perhaps he was. Look him in the face, as you did yesterday,

remember your promise, and he can't harm you."
 As they walked back slowly through the forest Gregor began to talk,
and the boy kept close beside him, listening eagerly to every word.

"The first thing, Sasha," said he, "is to get knowledge. You must learn,
somehow, to read and write, and count figures. I must tell you all I know,
about everything in the world, but that's very little; and it is so mixed up
in my head that I don't rightly know where to begin. It's a blessing I have
not forgotten much; what I picked up I held on to, and now I see the
reason why. There's nothing you can't use, if you wait long enough."

"Tell me about France!" cried Sasha.

"France and Germany too! I was two or three years, off and on, in
those foreign parts, and I could talk smartly in the speech of both—Allez!
Sortez! Donnez moi du vin!"

Gregor stopped and straightened his bent back; his eyes flashed, and
he laughed long and heartily.

"Allez! Sortez! Donnez moi du vin!" repeated Sasha.

Gregor caught up the boy in his arms and kissed him.

"The very thing, Sasha!" he cried. "I'll teach you both tongues,—and
all about the strange habits of the people, their houses, and churches, and
which way the battle went, and what queer harness they have on their
horses, and a talking bird I once saw, and a man that kept a bottle full of
lightning in his room, and—"

So his tongue ran on. It was a great delight to him to recall his
memories of more than thirty years, and he was constantly surprised to
find how many little things that seemed forgotten came back to his mind.
Sasha's breath came quick as he listened; his whole body felt warm and
nimble, and it suddenly seemed to him possible to learn anything and
everything. Before reaching home he had fixed twenty or thirty French
words in his memory. There they were, hard and tight; he knew he
should never forget them.

From that day began a new life for both. Old Gregor's method of
instruction would simply have confused a pupil less ignorant and eager
to be taught; but Sasha was so sure that knowledge would in some way
help him to become a free man, that he seized upon everything he heard.
In a few months he knew as much German and French as his
grandfather, and when they were alone they always spoke, as much as
possible, in one or the other language. But the boy's greatest desire was
to learn how to read. During the following winter he made himself useful
to the priest in various ways, and finally succeeded in getting from him
the letters of the alphabet and learning how to put them together. Of
course he could not keep secret all that he did; it was enough that no one
guessed his object in doing it.

One day in the spring, just after the baron had returned with his wife
from St. Petersburg, Sasha was sent on an errand to the castle. He was
bare-headed and bare-footed; his shirt and wide trousers were very
coarse, but clean, and his hair floated over his shoulders like a mass of
shining silk. When he reached the castle the baron and baroness, with a
strange lady, were sitting in the balcony. The latter said, in French,
"There's a nice-looking boy!"

Sasha was so glad to find that he understood, and so delighted with

the remark, that he looked up suddenly and blushed.

"I really believe he understands what I said," exclaimed the lady.

The baron laughed. "Do you suppose my young serfs are educated
like princes?" he asked.

"If he were so intelligent as that, how long could I keep him?"

Sasha bent down his head, and kicked the loose pebbles with his feet
to hide his excitement. The blood was humming in his ears: the baron
had said the same thing as his grandfather had said—to get knowledge
was the only way to get freedom!

CHAPTER III.

The summer passed away, and the second autumn came. Gregor had
told all he knew; told it twice, three times; and Sasha, more eager than
ever, began to grow impatient for something more. He had secured a
little reading-book, such as is used for children, and studied it until he
knew the exact place of every letter in it, but there was no one to give the
poor boy another volume, or to teach him any further.

One afternoon, as he was returning alone from a neighbouring village

by a country road which branched off from the main highway, he saw
three men sitting on the bank under the edge of a thicket. They were
strangers, and they seemed to him to be foreigners. Two were of middle
age, with harsh, evil faces; the third was young, and had an anxious
frightened look. They were talking earnestly, but before he could
distinguish the words, one of them saw him, made a sign to the others,
and then he was very sure that they suddenly changed their language; for
it was German he now heard.

He felt proud of his own knowledge, and his first thought was to say
"Good-day!" in German. Then he remembered his grandfather's counsel,
"Never display your knowledge until there is a good reason for it," and
gave his greeting in Russian. The young man nodded his head in return;
the others took no notice of him. But in passing he understood these
sentences:—

"He will carry a great deal of money.... There's no danger—he will be

alone.... Grain and hemp both sold to-day.... It will be already dark."

Just beyond the thicket the road made a sharp turn and entered the
woods. Sasha never afterwards could quite explain the impulse which led
him to dart under the trees as soon as he was out of sight, to get in the
rear of the thicket, crawl silently nearer on his hands and knees, and then
lie down flat within hearing of the men's voices. For a moment he was
overcome with a horrible fear. They were silent, and his heart beat so
loudly that he thought they could no more help noticing it than the sound
of a blacksmith's hammer.

Presently one of them spoke, this time in Russian.

"There is a hill from which you can see both roads," he said, "but he'll
hardly take the highway."

"Are you sure his groom was not in the town along with him?" asked
another.
 "It's all as I say—rely upon that!" was the answer. "For all his titles
he's no more than another man, and we are three!"

In talking further they mentioned the name of the town; it was the
place only a few miles distant where the grain, hemp, and other products
of the estate were sold to traders—and this was the day of the sale! The
plot of the robbers flashed into Sasha's mind; and if he had had any
remaining doubts, they were soon removed by his hearing the name of
Baron Popoff mentioned. The latter was to be waylaid, plundered, killed
if he resisted. Then the eldest of the three men said, as he got up from the
bank where they had been sitting:

"We must be on the way. Better be too early than too late."

"But it's a terrible thing," remarked the youngest.

"You can't turn back now!" said the other angrily.

Sasha waited until he could no longer hear their footsteps. Then he

started up, and, keeping away from the road they had taken, ran through
the woods and thickets in the direction of the town. His only thought
was, to reach the hill the robbers had mentioned, from which both roads
could be seen. He knew it well; there was a bridle-path, shorter than the
main highway, and the baron would probably take it, as he was on
horseback. The hill divided the two roads; it was covered with young
birch-trees, which grew very thickly on the summit and almost choked
up the path. But there was a long spur of thicket, he remembered,
running out on the ridge, and whoever stood at the end of it could almost
look into the town.

Sasha was so excited that he took a track almost as short as a bird

flies. He tore through bushes and brambles without thinking of the
scratches they gave him; he leaped across gullies, and ran at full speed
over open fields; he was faint, and bruised, and breathless, but he never
paused until the farthest point of the thicket on the hill was reached. It
was then about an hour before sunset, and only one or two travellers on
foot were to be seen upon the highway. The town was half a mile off, but
he could plainly see where the bridle-track issued from a little lane
between the houses. Carefully concealing himself under a thick alder-
bush, he kept his eyes fixed upon that point.
 He was obliged to wait for what seemed a long, long time. The sun
was just setting when, finally, a horseman made his appearance, and
Sasha knew by the large white horse that it must be the baron. The rider
looked at his watch, and then began to canter along the level towards the
hill. There was no time to lose; so, without pausing a moment to think,
Sasha sprang from his hiding-place, and darted down the grassy slope at
full speed, crying:

"Lord Baron! Lord Baron!"

The rider, at first, did not seem to heed. He cantered on, and it
required all Sasha's remaining strength to reach the path in advance of
him. Then he dropped upon his knees, lifted up his hands, and cried once
more:

"Stop, Lord Baron!"

The baron reined up his horse just in time to avoid trampling on the
boy. Sasha sprang to his feet, seized the bridle, and gasped, "The
robbers! the robbers!"

"Who are you?—and what does this mean?" asked the baron in a stern
voice.

But Sasha was too much in earnest to feel afraid of the great lord. "I
am Sasha, the son of Ivan, the son of Gregor," he replied; and then
related as rapidly as he could all that he had seen and heard.

The baron looked at his pistols.

"Ha!" he cried, "the caps have been taken off! You may have done me
good service, boy. Wait here: it is not enough to escape the rascals; we
must capture them!"

He turned his horse, and galloped back at full speed towards the town.
Sasha watched him, thinking only that he was saved at last. It was
growing dark when the boy's quick ear caught the sound of footsteps in
the opposite direction. He turned and saw the three men approaching
rapidly. With a deadly sense of terror he started and ran towards the
town.
 "Kill the little spy!" shouted behind him a voice which he well knew.

Sasha cried aloud for help as he ran, but no help came. He was
already weak and exhausted from the exertion he had made, and he heard
the robbers coming nearer and nearer. All at once it seemed to him that
his cries were answered; but at the same moment a heavy blow came
down upon his head and shoulder. He fell to the ground, and knew no
more.

CHAPTER IV.

When Sasha came to his senses it seemed to him that he must have
been dead for a long time. First of all, he had to think who he was; and
this was not so easy as you may suppose, for he found himself lying in
bed in a room he had never seen before. It was broad daylight, and the
sun shone upon one of his hands, which was so white and thin that it did
not seem to belong to him. Then he lifted it, and was amazed to find how
little strength there was in his arm. But he brought it to his head at last—
and there was another surprise. All his long silken hair was gone! He was
so weak and bewildered that he groaned aloud, and the tears ran down
his cheeks.

There was a noise in the room, and presently old Gregor, his
grandfather, bent over him as he lay in bed.

"Grandfather," said the boy—and how feeble his voice sounded—"am

I your Sasha still?"

The old man, crying for joy, dropped on his knees and uttered a short
prayer. "Now you will get well!" he cried; "but you mustn't talk; the
doctor said you were not to talk."

"But where am I, grandfather?" asked Sasha.

"In the palace! And the baron's own doctor comes every day to see
you; and they allow me to stay here and nurse you—it will be a week to-
morrow!"
 "What's the matter—what has happened?"

"Don't talk, for the love of heaven!" said Gregor; "you saved the
baron from being robbed and killed; and the principal robber struck your
head and broke your arm; and the baron and the people came just at the
right time; and one of them was shot, and the other two are in prison. O,
my boy, remember the altar of the black god Perun; be obedient to me;
shut your eyes and keep quiet!"

But Sasha could not shut his eyes. Little by little his memory came
back, and a sense of what he had done filled his mind and made him
happy. He felt a dull ache in his left arm, and found that it was so tightly
bandaged he could not move it, as he lay quite still, while his grandfather
sat and watched him with sparkling eyes. After a time the door opened
and a strange gentleman came in; it was the doctor. The old man rose and
conversed with him in whispers. Then Sasha found that a spoon was held
to his lips; he mechanically swallowed something that had a strange,
pleasant taste, and almost immediately fell asleep.

In a day or two he was strong enough to sit up in bed, and was

allowed to talk. Then the baron and the baroness came with the lady who
was their guest, to see him. They were all eager to learn the particulars of
the occurrence, especially how Sasha had discovered the plot of the
robbers. He began at the beginning, and had got as far as the latter's
change of language on seeing him, when he stopped in great confusion,
and looked at his grandfather.

Gregor neither spoke nor moved, but his eyes seemed to say plainly,
"Tell everything."

Sasha then related the whole story to the end. The baroness came to
the bedside, stooped down, kissed him, and said, "You have saved your
lord!"

But the other lady, who had been watching him very closely and
curiously, suddenly exclaimed:

"Why, it's the same nice-looking young serf that I saw before; and
when I spoke of him in French he blushed. I was sure he understood me!
Don't you understand me now, my boy?"
 She asked the question in French, and Sasha answered in the same
language, "Yes, madam."

The lady clapped her hands with delight; but the baron asked very
sternly:

"Where did you learn so many languages?"

"From me!" answered Gregor, instantly. "The boy likes to know

things, and I've always thought—saving your opinion, my lord—that
when God gives anyone a strong wish for knowledge he means it to be
answered. So I opened to him all there is in this foolish old head of mine
while we were together in the forest; and it was such a pleasure for him
to take that it came to be a pleasure for me to give. You understand, my
lady?"

"Yes," said the baroness, "I understand that without Sasha's

knowledge of German my husband would probably have been
murdered."

"That's not so certain," replied the baron. "But some celebrated man
has said, 'All's well that ends well.' The boy did his duty like a full-
grown man, and I'll take care of him."

Therewith they went out of the room, and Sasha immediately asked in
some anxiety, "Grandfather, you meant that I should tell?"

"Yes, my boy," said Gregor readily, "for the youngest robber has
already confessed that they spoke in German, and thought themselves
safe while you were passing. They are vagabonds from the borders of
Poland, and knew a little of three or four tongues. It is all right, Sasha;
the baron is satisfied, and means to help you. Your chance has come
sooner than I expected. I must have a little time to think about it; my
head is like a stiff joint, hard to bend when I want to use it. It's a piece of
good luck to me that you can't get out of bed for a week to come!"

He laughed as he left the bedside and took his seat on the broad stone
bench beside the fireplace. Sasha kept silent, for he knew that the old
man's brain was hard at work. He tried to do a little thinking himself, but
it made him feel weak and giddy; in fact, the blow upon his head would
have killed a more delicate boy.
 His strength came back so rapidly, however, that in a week he was
able to walk about with his arm in a sling. He was still pale, and looked
so strange in his short hair that on his first visit home his mother burst
into tears on seeing him. Then Minka, Peter, Sergius, and Waska lifted
up their voices and cried; and Ivan, who was at first angry with them,
finally cried also, without knowing why he did it. All this made Sasha
feel very uncomfortable, and he was on the point of saying, "I won't do it
again!" when Old Gregor made silence in the house. He had looked
through the window and seen some of the neighbours coming; so the
whole family became cheerful again as rapidly as they could.

By this time Gregor had made up his mind. Sasha knew that he could
not change it if he would, and he was therefore very glad to find how
well his grandfather's notions agreed with his own. While he was waiting
for the baron to speak again he was not losing time; for the strange lady
who was visiting at the castle took quite a friendly interest in teaching
him French and German, and giving him Russian books which were not
too difficult to read. He was so eager to satisfy her that he really made
astonishing progress.

When the robbers were tried before the judge he was called upon to
give testimony against them. One of the three having been killed, the
youngest one was not afraid to confess, and his story and Sasha's agreed
perfectly. The boy described the unwillingness of the former to
undertake the crime; even the baron said a word in his favour, and the
judge at last sentenced him to be banished to Siberia for only ten years,
while the older robber was sent there for life.

That evening the baron asked Sasha, "Would you like to be one of my
house-servants, boy?"

Just as his grandfather had advised him, Sasha answered, "It is not for
me to choose, my lord; but I think I can serve you much more to your
profit if you will let me try to become a merchant."

"A merchant!" exclaimed the baron.

"Not all at once," said Sasha. "I could be of use now as a boy to help
carry and sell things, because I can count, and speak a little in other
tongues. I could make myself so useful to some merchant that he would
give me a chance to learn the whole business in time. Then I should earn
much money, and could pay you for the privilege."

The baron had often envied noblemen of his acquaintance, some of

whose serfs were rich manufacturers or merchants, and paid them large
annual sums for the privilege of living for themselves. Here seemed to be
a chance for him to gain something in the same way. The boy spoke so
confidently, and looked in his face with such straightforward eyes, that
he felt obliged to consider the proposition seriously.

"How will you get to St. Petersburg?" he asked.

"When you go, my lord," said Sasha, "I could sit on the box at the
coachman's feet. I will help him with the horses, and it shall cost you
nothing. When I get there I know I shall find a place."

The baron then said, "You may go."

CHAPTER V.

Here, as a boy not yet fifteen, Sasha begins his career as a man. The
task he has undertaken demands the industry, the patience, and the
devotion of his life; but he has been prepared for it by a sound if a
somewhat hard experience. I hope the boys who read this feel satisfied
already that he is going to succeed; yet I know also that they like to be
certain, and to have some little information as to how it came about. So I
will allow fifteen years to pass, and we will now look upon Sasha as a
man of about thirty years of age.

He has an office and warehouse on the great main street of St.

Petersburg, which is called the Nevsky Prospekt, that is, the Perspective
of the Neva, because when you look down it you see the blue waters of
the river Neva at the end. Over the door there is a large sign-board with
the name "Alexander Ivanovitch."[1] He employs a number of clerks and
salesmen, and has a servant who would go through fire and water to help
or serve him. I must relate how he found this man, and why the latter is
so faithful.
 [1] Ivanovitch means "the son of Ivan." Russian family names are formed in
this manner, and therefore the son has a different name from the father, unless
their baptismal names are the same.

On one of his journeys of business, five years before, Sasha visited

the town of Perm, on the western side of the Ural Mountains. It is on the
main highway to Siberia, and criminals are continually passing either on
the way thither in chains, or returning in rags when their time of
banishment has expired. One evening Sasha found by the roadside, in the
outskirts of the town, a miserable looking wretch who seemed to be at
the point of death. He felt the man's pulse, lifted up his head and looked
in his face, and was startled at recognizing the younger of the three
robbers who had attacked Baron Popoff. He had him taken to the inn,
tended, and restored, and after being convinced of his earnest desire to
lead a better life gave him employment. The robber was not naturally a
bad man, but very ignorant and superstitious. It seemed to him both a
miracle and a warning that he should have been saved by Sasha, and he
fully believed that his soul would be lost if he should ever act
dishonestly towards him.

Keeping his heart steadily upon the great purpose of his life, Sasha
rose from one step to another until he became an independent and
wealthy merchant, far wealthier, indeed, than the baron supposed. He
paid the latter a handsome sum for his time, and sent only small presents
of money to his parents, for he knew how few and simple their wants
were. He felt a thousand times more keenly than old Gregor what it was
to be a serf. The old man was still living, but very feeble and helpless,
and Sasha often grew wild at the thought that he might die before
knowing freedom.

His plan of action had been long fixed, and now the hour had come
when he determined to try it. He had for years kept a strict watch over
the baron's life in St. Petersburg, knew the amount of his increasing debts
and the embarrassment they occasioned him, and could very nearly
calculate the hour when ruin would overtake him. He was not
disappointed, therefore, one morning at receiving an urgent summons to
wait upon his master.
 "Sasha," said the latter, laying his hand upon the shoulder of his serf
with a familiarity he had never displayed before, "you are an honest,
faithful fellow. I need a few thousand roubles for a month or two; can
you get the money for me?"

"I have heard, my lord," answered Sasha, "that you are in difficulty. I
knew why you sent for me, and I come to offer you a way out of all your
troubles. Your debts amount to more than a hundred thousand roubles:
would you like to be relieved of them?"

"Would I not!—but how?" exclaimed the baron.

"I will pay them, my lord; but you will do one thing for me in return."

"You, you!"

"I," Sasha quietly answered, "I will free you, and you will free me!"

"Ha!" the baron cried, springing to his feet. His pride was touched. He
was fond of boasting that he also had a serf who was a rich merchant,
and the fact had many a time helped his credit when he wanted to borrow
money. Unconsciously he shook his head.

"You have not the money," he said.

Sasha, who understood what was passing through the mind of the
baron, suffered so much from his cruel uncertainty that he turned deadly
pale.

"I am well known," he answered, "and can procure the money in an

hour. How much is my serfdom worth to you? My annual payment is
hardly one-tenth of the usurious interest which your debt wrings from
you: I offer to release you from all trouble, and thus add not less than
eight thousand roubles a year to your income. And my freedom, which
you can now sell back to me at such a price, may be mine without buying
in a few years more!"

The emperor, Alexander II. (who was assassinated in 1881), had at

that time just succeeded to the throne, and his intention to emancipate the
serfs was already suspected by the people. Sasha knew that he was
running a great risk in what he said; but his clasped hands, his trembling
voice, his eyes filled with tears, affected the baron more powerfully than
his words.

There was a long silence. The master turned away to the window, and
weighed the offer rapidly in his mind; the serf waited in breathless
anxiety in the centre of the room.

Suddenly the baron turned and struck his clenched fist on the table.
Then he stretched out his hand and said:

"Alexander Ivanovitch, I am glad to make your acquaintance as a

friend; I am no longer your master."

Sasha took the hand of the baron and kissed it, and his tears fell thick
and fast.

"Dear Lord Baron," he cried, "give me also the freedom of my father

and grandfather, and I will add a payment of five thousand roubles a year
for ten years to come!"

"And your ancestors for five hundred years back," the baron answered
laughing. "I don't know their names, but they can all be thrown into the
deed in one lump."

Before another day passed it was done. Sasha and the other living
members of his family were free, and his ancestors also would have been
free if they had not been dead. With the parchment signed and sealed in
his pocket he took a carriage and post-horses and travelled day and night
until he reached his native village. No one knew the stranger in his rich
merchant's dress; his father and brothers were at work, and his mother
had gone to see a neighbour:—old Gregor was alone in the house. He
was leaning back in a rude arm-chair, with a sheep-skin over his knees;
his eyes were closed, his mouth slightly open, and his face so haggard
and sunken that Sasha immediately thought he was dead.

He knelt down beside the chair, and placed his hand on the old man's
heart, to see if it still beat. Presently came a broken voice, saying:

"The black god—the truth, my boy!" and Gregor feebly stretched a

hand towards Sasha's breast. The latter tore open his dress, and spread
the cold, horny fingers over his own heart, the warmth of which seemed
to kindle a fresh life in the old man. He at last opened his eyes.

"Little Sasha!" said he; "little Sasha will keep his word."

"Grandfather," exclaimed Sasha, "I have kept it."

"It's a man—a brave looking man," said Gregor; "but he has the voice
of my boy Sasha; and he has, yes, I know he has, his hand upon my
heart."

Sasha could no longer restrain himself.

"And the boy is a freeman, grandfather," he exclaimed; "we are all

free: here is the baron's deed, which says so, with the seal of the empire
upon it. Look, grandfather, look!—do you understand, you are free!"

Gregor was lifted to his feet as if by an unseen hand. At that moment

Sasha's father and mother, and brothers entered the house. The old man
did not heed their cries of astonishment; clasping the parchment to his
breast, he looked upward and exclaimed in a piercing voice:

"Free at last! all free! I will carry the news to God!"

Then, before any one—not even Sasha—could step forward to assist

him, he reeled and fell on the floor—dead. His prayer had been granted.

THE COOLEST MAN IN RUSSIA.

I've seen many a brave man in my time, sure enough," said old Ivan
Starikoff, removing his short pipe to puff out a volume of smoke from
beneath his long white moustache.

"Many and many a one have I seen; for, thank heaven, the children of
holy Russia are never wanting in that way, but all of them put together
wouldn't make one such man as our old colonel, Count Pavel Petrovitch
Severin. It was not only that he faced danger like a man—all the others
did that—but he never seemed to know that there was any danger at all.
It was as good as a reinforcement of ten battalions to have him among us
in the thick of a fight, and to see his grand, tall figure drawn up to its full
height, and his firm face and keen gray eyes turned straight upon the
smoke of the enemy's line, as if defying them to hurt him. And when the
very earth was shaking with the cannonade, and balls were flying thick
as hail, and the hot, stifling smoke closed us in like the shadow of death,
with a flash and a roar breaking through it every now and then, and the
whole air filled with the rush of the shot, like the wind sweeping through
a forest in autumn,—then Petrovitch would light a cigarette and hum a
snatch of a song, as coolly as if he were at a dinner party in Moscow.
And it really seemed as if the bullets ran away from him, instead of his
running away from them; for he never got shot. But if he saw any of us
beginning to waver he would call out cheerily:

"Never fear, lads, remember what the old song says!" for in those
days we had an old camp-song that we were fond of singing, and the
chorus of it was this:—

"Then fear not swords that brightly shine,

Nor towers that grimly frown;
For God shall march before our line,
And hew our foemen down."

"He said this so often, that at last he got the nickname among us of
"Don't Fear," and he deserved it, if ever man did. Why, Father Nickolai
Pavlovitch himself (the Emperor Nicholas) gave him the cross of St.
George[1] with his own hand at the siege of Varna, in the year '28. You
see, our battery had been terribly cut up by the Turkish fire, so at last
there was only about half a dozen of us left on our feet. It was as hot
work as I was ever in,—shot pelting, earthworks crumbling, gabions
crashing, guns and gun-carriages tumbling over one another, men falling
on every side like leaves, till all at once a shot went slap through our
flag-staff, and down came the colours!

[1] The highest Russian decoration.

 "Quick as lightning Pavel Petrovitch was upon the parapet, caught the
flag as it fell, and held it right in the face of all the Turkish guns, while I
and another man spliced the pole with our belts. You may think how the
unbelievers let fly at him when they saw him standing there on the top of
the breast-work, just as if he'd been set up for a mark; and all at once I
saw one fellow (an Albanian by his dress, and you know what deadly
shots they are) creep along to the very angle of the wall and take steady
aim at him!

"I made a spring to drag the colonel down (I was his servant, you
know, and whoever hurt him hurt me); but before I could reach him I saw
the flash of the Albanian's piece, and Pavel Petrovitch's cap went
spinning into the air with a hole right through it just above the forehead.
And what do you think the colonel did? Why, he just snapped his fingers
at the fellow, and called out to him, in some jibber-jabber tongue only fit
to talk to a Turk in:

"'Can't you aim better than that, you fool? If I were your officer I'd
give you thirty lashes for wasting the government ammunition!'

"Well, as I said before, he got the St. George, and of course everybody
congratulated him, and there was a great shaking of hands, and giving of
good wishes, and drinking his health in mavro tchai—that's a horrid
mess of eggs, and scraped cheese, and sour milk, and Moldavian wine,
which these Danube fellows have the impudence to call 'black tea,' as if
it was anything like the good old tea we Russians drink at home! (I've
always thought, for my part, that tea ought to grow in Russia; for it's a
shame that these Chinese idolators should have such grand stuff all to
themselves.)

"Well, just in the height of the talk Pavel Petrovitch takes the cross off
his neck, and holds it out in his hand—just so—and says:

"'Well, gentlemen, you say I'm the coolest man in the regiment, but
perhaps everybody wouldn't agree with you. Now, just to show that I
want nothing but fair play, if I ever meet my match in that way I'll give
him this cross of mine!'