in which they met, prevented the arctic
explorer from recognising his former general.
When, therefore, the miserable-looking
peasant addressed him by his name, he was
overwhelmed with astonishment; much more so,
when the reply to his demand of who he
could be was, "I am Alexander, once Prince
Mentchikoff."

The officer, unable to comprehend what
he saw, turned for explanation to a young
peasant who sat in a corner of the hut
mending his boots with packthread. To him
he addressed himself, for he still thought he
must have been deceived by an accidental
resemblance.

"Who is that man?" he asked, pointing to
the prince.

"It is Alexander, my father," replied the
youth. "Do you think it necessary to affect
not to know us in our misfortunes—you, who
owe us so many obligations?"

Mentchikoff pointed to two peasant girls
seated on the floor of the hut, occupied
in breaking some hard black bread into a
wooden bowl of milk. "This one," added
Mentchikoff, "is she who was affianced to
the Czar Peter the Second, and who would
have been Empress of all the Russias." He
then recounted to the officer the events
which had occurred in the short space of four
short years, during which the young man had been
absent in those frozen regions, where no news
of the changes of the dynasty had reached
him. "Return now," he concluded, "and
give a report of your commission; you will
probably find Olgoruki and Osterman in the
height of power. Tell them of this meeting,
and say I trust they will prove by their
talents capable of directing the government."

The time allowed for the halt being at
length at an end, the exiles and their pitying
friend were forced to part; the latter with a
saddened mind proceeded toward St. Petersburg;
while the former cheerfully resumed
their way to eternal banishment.

Arrived at last at their destined bourne,
the exiles at once set to work to render their
abode as little dreary as possible. The eight
domestics each entered into their labour with
goodwill, and a place of residence was built
which was not without a certain comfort.
Attached to it was an oratory where the
exiled prince proposed to dedicate his days to
prayer and penitential orisons. Altogether
his house contained four chambers, divided
between himself and his son, his two daughters,
and his servants. Each had their allotted
duty to perform. The betrothed empress
became their cook, and her sister had the
charge of the household. Scarcely were they
established in their abode, after extreme
labour, when, to their surprise and a delight
which only those so desolate could know,
the arrival of a small flock of sheep, a bull
and two cows, and a large quantity of poultry,
rendered their colony rich and flourishing.
The most profound secresy attended this
opportune present, but the grateful family
thought they could trace it to their lately
found friend.

The desert home of Mentchikoff soon
assumed the aspect of a cloister, but one in
which all was harmony, piety, and calm
resignation. Six months passed away in
comparative happiness, when the eldest daughter
of the prince was attacked by the small-pox,
and, after much suffering, expired in her
father's arms, who performed for her
remains the office of priest, and exhorted
his two remaining children to learn to die.
She was buried in his oratory; and he
expressed a wish that, when his hour arrived,
he should be laid by her side. Almost
immediately after this sad bereavement, both
his other children were seized with the same
malady; and he was called upon to exert
every energy in the hope of saving them.
Their recovery at length cast a gleam of joy
upon his mind; but, the sorrow, fatigue, and
hardship he had gone through, now began to
show their force. He was devoured by a low
added fever, which was undermining his constitution;
and in vain he strove to battle with it,
concealing its ravages from his agonised family.
At length the fatal hour arrived when, feeling
that his strength was failing, he called
his son and daughter to his bed-side, and,
after calmly recapitulating to them his errors and
his failings, exhorted them to avoid the snares
into which he had fallen. While he was yet
speaking, a convulsion seized him; he tried
to put forth his hand; but his strength was
gone, and sinking back, he expired without
a groan.

The tidings of his death was. immediately
forwarded to St. Petersburg by the officer
who had charge of the exiles, and who,
moved with compassion for the helpless position
of the orphans, ventured to entreat that
the rigour of their detention might be in
some degree relaxed. In the mean time, he
took upon himself to extend to them the
mercy he implored; and in this manner the
unfortunate brother and sister were sometimes
allowed the liberty of going to mass at
Yakoutsk separately and under surveillance.

One day, as the young princess was
proceeding to visit the church, she observed a
man's head thrust out of an opening in a
miserable hut on her route. By the shape of
the cap which was worn by this person, and
the long ragged beard, she imagined him to
be some peasant; yet could not but remark
that he appeared to make signs of recognition
of her person, which, in her humble
garb, she could not think very easy to
identify. However, on her return, the same
figure was still watching, and endeavoured,
by gestures, to attract her attention. Somewhat
alarmed, she hastened her pace, and
was passing by without notice, when a cry
reached her, and she was startled by these
exclamations:

"Ah Princess, Princess Mentchikoff! why