Getting the Better of Holy Russia.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1032, 11 December 1891, Page 12

Getting the Better of Holy Russia.

In the October Century Mr George Kerman tells the story of ‘My Last -Days in Siberia,’ and winds up with an account of the risky proceeding by which he forwarded his notebooks and memoranda to St. [Petersburg. . He was staying at the time at Minusinsk : Upon the advice of some of my friends in Minusinsk I decided to get rid of all my notebooks, documents, letters from" political convicts, and other dangerous and incriminating papers, by sending them through the mails to a friend in St. Petersburg. To entrust such mateiial to the [Russian Postal [Department seemed a very hazardous thing to do ] but my friends assured me that the postal authorities in Minusinsk were honourable men, •who would not betray to the police the fact that I had sent such a package, and that there was little probability of its being opened or examined in St. Petersburg. They thonght that the danger of losing my notes and papers in the mails was not nearly so great as the danger of having them taken from me the result of a police seaich. The material in question amounted in weight to about 401 b ) but as packages of all sizes are commonly sent by mail in [Russia, mere bulk in itseli was not a suspicious circumstance. I had a box made by an exiled Polish carpenter, took it to my room at night, put into it the results of my whole Siberian experience—most ~ of the dangerous papers being already concealed in the covers of books and,the hollow sides of small boxes—sewed it up carefully in strong canvas, sealed it with more than 20 seals, and addressed it to a friend in St. Petersburgh whose political trustworthiness was beyond suspicion, and whose mail I believe would not be tampered with. Tuesday morning, about half an hour before the semiweekly post was to leave Minusinsk for St. Petersburg, I carried the box down into the courtyard under the •cover of an overcoat, put it into a sleigh, threw a robe over it, and went with it myself to the post-office. The officials 'asked no question, but weighed the package, gave me a written receipt for it, and tossed it carelessly upon a pile of other mail matter that a clerk was putting into large leather pouches. I gave one last look at it, and left the post-office with a heavv heart. Prom that time forward I was never free from anxiety about it. That package contained all the results of my Siberian work, and its loss would simply be irreparable. As week after week passed, and I heard nothing about it, I was strongly tempted to telegraph my friend and find out whether it had reached him, "but I knew that such a telegram might increase the risk, and I refrained. . "We reached the [Russian capital on March 19th, and as soon as I had left the baggage at an hotel I called a droshky, drove to the house of the friend to whom I had sent my precious box of note-books and papers, and with a fast-beating heart rang the bell and gave the servant my card. Before my friend made his appearance I was in a perfect fever of excitement and anxiety. Suppose the box had been opened by the post office or police officials and its contents seized, what should I have to show for almost a year of work: and .suffering ? How much could I remember of all that I had seen and (heard? What should I do with the written record of names, dates and the multitudinous and minute details that give verisimilitude to a story ? My friend entered the room with as calm and unruffled a countenance as if he bad never heard of a box of papers, and my heart sank. I had half expected to be able to see that box in his face. I cannot remember -whether I expressed any pleasure at meeting him, or made any enquires with regard to his health. Por one breathless moment he was to me merely the possible custodian of a box. I think he asked me when I arrived, and remarked that he had some letters for me, hut all that I am

certain of is that after struggling with myself for a moment until I thought I could speak without manifestation of excitement, I enquired simply, ‘ Did you receive a box from me ?’ ‘A. box V he repeated interrogatively. A.gain my heart sank ; evidently he had not received it. ‘ Oh, yes,’ he continued, as if with a sudden flash of comprehension, ‘ the bi» square box, sewed up in canvas. Yes, that’s here.’ I was told afterward that there was no perceptible change in the gloomy March weather of St. Petersburgh at that moment, but I am confident, nevertheless, that at least four suns, of the largest size known to astronomy, began immediately to shine into my friend's front windows, and tiiat I could hear robins and meadow-larks singing all up and down the Nevski Prospect. I sent the precious notes and papers out of the empire by a special messenger, in order to avoid the danger of a possible search of my own baggage at the frontier, and four clays later Mr Frost and I were in London.