TOO SHARP FOR THE CZAR.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1164, 22 June 1894, Page 9

TOO SHARP FOR THE CZAR.

By David Ker in St. Nicholas. Eaily one tine aummer morning, near the beginning of the last century, there was a great stir in the Czar's palace at St. Petersburg. It was a very different place from the splendid *' Winter Palace" which now looks down upon the Neva, for both it and the greater part of the town were just newly built ; and where the stately streets and gold-plated church* towers of St. Petersburg now stand, there was then nothing to be seen but a crowd of untidy-looking wooden houses in the i&idst of a sea of dust or mud. A group of excited men in rich dresses had gathered around the main entrance of the palace, and were talking loudly and eagerly. But every tongue was suddenly hushed as a towering figure, clad in a shabby green uniform trimmed with faded lace, came striding among them as a Hon might stalk through a herd of jackals. Indeed, if the new-comer had been a lion, they could hardly have got out of his way more hastily. And well they might; for this shabbily dressed man was no other than the Czar himself, Peter the Great of Russia. " Poor Siatoff 'a going to catch it now !"

muttered a hsrd-facod oldsoMipr who was Btanding on guard at the door. " Whenever Peter Alexeievitch (Peter, the son of Alexis) sets his lips that way, and tug 9 with his right hand at the breast of his coat, ho means mischief." M But Balakireff, his majesty's jester, is SistofFs cousin," said a man beside him ; ,4 and Ac's such a favourite thrtt he 'll surely be able to beg him off." " Twenty Balakireff* could n't do it !" answen-d the sentinel positively. " Just you wait and see." It certainly appeared as if he were right, for Peter's voice was like the roar of a winter storm through the pine-forests as he shouted : " Bring in the prisoner !" The prisoner was brought in accord- * ingly, looking more duad than alive. He was a servant of the palace, Sistoff by name, and had always borne a good character. How he had managed to offend the Cz*r, no ore knew ; but Peter's face showed plainly that it was likely to go hard with the poor fellow. But before Sistoff could gather his scattered wits to answer the Czir's stern question, what had he to say for himself, there glided into the room a queer little man with a bald head, at sight of whom a lurking smile flitted over the set faces of the Czar's officers. In fact, the new-comer did make a very comical figure. On his head he wore a high pointed cap, with several small bells on it which tinkled as ho moved, while his long frock was covered with broad stripes of red and blue, and fluttering strips of coloured paper. Altogether, anyone would have thought on seeing him that if he were not actually crazy, he must be some kind of mountebank. Such, indeed, he was ; for this was the Czar s jester, Balakireff, SistofFs cousin, of whom the old guardsman had just been speaking. Peter guessed at once that the jester had come to plead for his cousin, and turning to the officers, cried : *" Gentlemen, I know what this man U going to ask of me, and I declare before you all that I will not grant his petition." Quick as lightning Balakireff threw himself at the Czar's feet, and said, loud enough for everyone to hear : " I beseech your majesty not to pardon that scamp of a cousin of mine !" The daring and readiness of the trick struck everyone dumb, and the officers exchanged glances of silent astonishment. Peter's dark face glowed like heated iron, and he clenched his strong right hand till the knuckles grew white. Theie was a moment of terrible silence, and every one feared that the brave jestei* 1 was about to pay dearly for his boldness. I Then the Czar spoke : 44 A Russian Czar must not break his work, so you may go free, Sistoff. But as for you, Balakireff, begone from hence, and never show yourself upon Russian soil again !" Poor Balakireff, who evidently had not expected such harshness, looked thunderstruck ; but as he turned to leave the room, a sudden twinkle in his email gray eyes showed that he had already hit upon a plan for getting himself out of the scrape. 44 1 'm sorry for him, too !" said one of the sentries at the door, turning to look after the departing jester. "Ho kept us all alive here with his fun and tricks, and tho place will be quito dull now that he 's gone." *' We Tl see him again before lomj, never fear," answered the other. " BalakirefFs not such a fool as he looks, and I 'm much mistaken if ho does n't prove too sharp fur the Cz ir yet." One week, two weeks, three weeks wens by, and still nothing was seen or heard < f tho missi'g Balakireff. Ac last, early one morning, Peter the Great, who was always up before sunrise, saw a cart jogging up to the very gate of the palace, driven by a man in whOm his keen eye at once recognised his banished jester. " How dare you disobey my commands, you rascal ?" cried the Czar, steppiug forward to meet him.

" How have I disobeyed them, pray?" asked BalakirefF, boldly. '* Did I not tell you," rejoined Peter, u never to show yourself upon Russian soil again ?" "To bo sure you did," answered the jester, as composedly hs ever, "and I have* obeyed your orders. This cartload of earth upon which I 'm sitting is not Russian soil at all ;it 's all from tne other side of the river, from Finland, and that 'a Swedish soil, as you know." The Czar laughed in spite of himself. In his heart he had already begun to regret the loss of his old friend and companion, and he was not at all sorry to find an excuse for getting him back again. " Well, IM pardon you this time," said he, still laughing; "but if Finland be Swedish soil now, it shall be Russian before long." And a very few years later, Peter the Great made good his words.