And then, with a deep-drawn sigh, she fell back on her pillow. Silence once more reigned in the room a silence only broken by the monotonous dripping of the rain, and the painful breathing of the dying mother.

Sleep fell gently on the saddened child, and, as his eyes slowly closed, his grief was for the nonce forgotten.

The light grew more feeble every minute. For a little while the flame flickered fitfully, reflecting on the walls a lurid glare; then, as it burned deeper and deeper into the socket, it finally disappeared, and left them in utter darkness.

Illouscha in a half dreamy state crept mechanically across the room to the bed, climbed up over his mother's prostrate form, and squeezing his little body as near to the wall as possible, dropped into a sound sleep.

The rain still fell in torrents, but the wind seemed to have abated, for the shutter no longer banged against the wall.

expenses were bore by the landlady, who reimbursed herself by seizing every little thing that had any value, such as a rabbitfur pelisse, a picture of the Virgin in a gilt frame, a woollen shawl, and the mattress and pillows of the bed. The little that remained was carried off by the other lodgers, each one taking what suited his fancy. The chipped teapot and two cups were seized by the old man who had recently scolded Illouscha for spilling the water on the staircase. The little boy's coat fell to the lot of a shoemaker who lived opposite; and the sempstress who did odd jobs for the whole house, seized upon the old lantern, which she said was quite good to take down into the cellar of an evening for coals.

The soldier's child had disappeared none knew whither. But on the day of the funeral, when the last rites had been performed, he was seen in the courtyard, wet through and shivering.

"What do you want here?" inquired the landlady querulously, evidently displeased and ill at ease at his re-appearance, for she feared that he came to claim his possessions.

"I want nothing," answered Illouscha timidly.

At length the child awoke. But what a terrible awakening! Who was it lying on the pillow at his side? Not his mother surely! a strange_woman— a woman unknown to him. Every feature distorted a form cold and motionless

- her eyes glassy and staring! Illouscha was from terror speechless. He knew not how he climbed off the bed, nor how he left the house. Nor did he recover his self-possession until, at a long distance from the house, he was suddenly stopped by a flock of sheep, which a shepherd was driving through the barrier into the adjacent pasture. Little by little he recalled all those terrible incidents from which he had flown. He was fully persuaded that his mother was dead, and that now he was alone-quite, quite alone in this great, big world!

Three days later the soldier's wife was buried. At last she was at rest in the grave, where neither privation, nor grief,

The child burst into tears at the thought that never again could he enter his room. "I only wanted to fetch my coat "Coat! what coat?

'My own," sobbed the child; "it is there in the room; it was my very own."

After a moment's reflection the woman called out to the sempstress, who happened at the moment to be crossing the court, "Axima, perhaps you can tell me who took his coat?"

"Who took it?" she replied in an irritable tone; "of course I can - why, it was the workmen opposite, who took it!" she repeated as though reflecting — " why of course, I remember-it was the cobbler, and no one else."

As she said this she picked up the tail of her wet skirt, and, displaying two huge feet encased in men's work-a-day boots, went on her way.

"What! the cobbler!” cried the landlady furiously; "how durst he do any such thing? Who gave him leave, I

Then the child, frightened and confused, hid his treasure in the depths of his pocket; he could hear the rattle no longer, but felt it there quite safe.

He did not go to the man who had promised him the shoes, for the sufficient reason that he did not exist. But he did not wander along aimlessly; he had a fixed plan in his head all the while. He resolved to join his father. He only knew that he had gone to the war, and it did not seem at all impossible to find the road that led there. He had often heard his granny say that the human tongue could create a road as far as Kiev, and this maxim taught him what to do. To live anywhere without his father seemed impossible, for nobody would have him, and to beg was quite out of the question. He comforted himself with a resolution to be useful to his father. He determined to fetch water for him, to cut up firewood for him, even as he had done for his mother.

"And then," thought he, "when my work is done, father will ask me riddles and talk to me as he used to do; and I, in return, will tell him about mother's death."

When night began to fall, and he could not be so distinctly seen, he strove to overcome his timidity, and approaching a vendor of kvas, installed at a street corner, he asked her softly,

"Will you please tell me the nearest way to the gate?"

"What do you want there?" said the

woman.

Illouscha did not dare tell her the truth; his child heart had grown distrustful of every one; so he told the woman that he was going to visit an aunt who lived at the gate.

"But which gate do you mean?" asked she. "There are many gates in Mos

COW."

his age.

Thus did Illouscha wander for two days and nights without finding his way out of the immense city. He wandered round and round the same point, traversing the same street two or three times, finally returning to the spot whence he had started.

His natural timidity prevented him from getting exact information as to the way. He could never bring himself until dark to accost any one with an inquiry as to the road he ought to take; and then his questions were so vague, that no one understood exactly what he wanted. These checks, however, did not discourage him. He firmly believed that once outside the gate he would find a long, straight road, which would take him direct to his destination. And then, thought he, all his troubles, all his misery, would be past.

The farthest point he had reached was the bank of the Jaousa, studded by soap, candle, and other factories. These colossal red brick chimneys with ceaseless smoke rolling from them, the turbid river, the heavy air which pervaded this part of the town, made him feel very doubtful of approaching the fields he was seeking, and that straight road of which he dreamed.

Weary unto death, the poor child felt thankful indeed to discover a little lonely path by the river's bank where he might rest. Here, on an old willow stump, covered with dust, he sat himself down.

The Jaousa, stained with the colors from neighboring factories, flowed past him. The child gazed sadly, first at the rushing waters, then at his bruised and bleeding feet. His powers seemed exhausted from incessant walking. For two days he had eaten nothing, and yet he could not make up his mind to beg. Alas! he saw that the time was not far distant when he would be reduced even to that. As his bodily strength waned, his courage began to fail him. He knew that the distance which separated him from his father was as great as on the day that he had quitted his home. "If only I could find the gate," thought he sadly, "then half the journey would be over. But where is this gate? How can I find it?"

Illouscha began to think that Moscow was limitless in extent; that all its streets were circular; and that there was point of egress.

по

He knew that his father had journeyed by rail, but he also knew that he could not make use of the railway without money. He felt very sad.

Neither the bright sun nor the blue sky could cheer him. He was alone, quite alone, in this big city. No one asked him if he were hungry, or if his feet were blistered. He sighed, and drew his wooden egg from his pocket; but, alas! even this sole consolation of his saddest moments was bereft of half its charm, for the egg was empty now! Hunger had compelled him to eat the bonbons, thus his pleasant dream of making his father a present of it with all that it contained was destroyed. He might, it is true, still give him the empty egg, but that would be but half a present, an idea so painfully sad as to bring tears into his eyes. And yet he loved his red egg very much; and as he rose from his seat and went his way, he continually felt in his pocket to be sure that he had not lost it.

A well-dressed young man, accompanied by a lady in a grey silk dress, and whose face was veiled, strolled along a solitary street, apparently in animated conversation. At the corner they met the barefooted urchin, his clothes more ragged and torn than ever. The child gave them a strange, wistful look, but said nothing -perhaps they did not notice him; at all events, they passed on, still deep in conversation.

A few minutes later they heard the patter of small bare feet behind them. "A bit of bread!" gasped the child as he touched the lady's dress.

She made a movement as though feeling for her purse, but suddenly remembering that she had nothing less than a twenty-kopeck piece, she hesitated. Perhaps she might have given it to him had not the young man turned sharply round and said: "Will you be gone, and leave us alone, you idle young villain! At your age it is better to work than to beg." These words sealed his fate: the lady passed on, and spoke of other things.

The child followed them for a short distance, then stopped, and gazed sadly at their receding forms. He had hesitated so long ere he could bring himself to pronounce those four words, "A bit of bread!" What pain they had given him! For more than an hour had he waited at the corner of the street before he could summon up sufficient courage to utter them; and he had appealed to the most richly dressed of the passers-by those who he thought could most easily spare a few kopecks to keep him from starving.

But he had evidently made a mistake, for they had given him nothing; and he felt sure that as they did not no one

would, so he resolved to give up all idea of begging.

Illouscha walked slowly along the pavement, tears in his eyes, and his head bent low. As he passed a granary he observed pigeons flying in and out, bearing away the grain spilt upon the floor. The child, lost in thought, began to realize that he was a beggar after all; hunger had driven him to it; and his mother's prophecy had, alas! come true.

At the top of the street he saw a woman with a child in her arms, standing on the threshold of a house. Her face seemed less hard than any of the others he had addressed. Still he hesitated; but after a moment's reflection he made up his mind to ask for something to eat. "After all," thought he, "what does it matter now, since I am a beggar? One appeal more or less can do no harm, and I am so very hungry!"

The poor child approached the woman, and politely removing his cap, asked timidly for a little piece of bread.

"Doesn't your mother give you enough to eat?" asked the woman. "I have no mother," he answered gen

tly.

"Then where is your father?"

'My father is at the war," replied Illouscha.

The woman kept questioning him incredulously, as though trying to comprehend his situation. His clothes seemed to her somewhat suspicious. All this while the child remained standing respectfully before her, cap in hand, his tearful eyes fixed imploringly upon her.

"Hark'ee-little one," quoth the woman, "if you are speaking the truth you shall prove it: go and fetch me some wood. You see yonder red brick house, half built? they let folks pick up odd bits of wood; you go there, and if you bring me a good bundle I will give you some cabbage soup."

"Must I fetch them now?" inquired the boy.

"Of course, at once! when else would you? Bring plenty and I will give you a good dinner, do you hear? There are some small bits too," cried the woman after the child, who had already started off, "mind the small bits, I want those particularly."

Illouscha moved off at a walk, but soon broke into a run. He felt so light and happy now! the houses seemed to glide past him and to smile on him as he passed. He saw the white curtains, and flowers in the windows. The whole world seemed