the same difficulty stood in his way, the want of a passport, for Trofimof's license had expired. One afternoon, whilst taking a walk in a quiet street, Roslaf was suddenly stopped by a heavy hand, which grasped his arm. He quietly turned round, expecting to see the face of some fellow-boarder; but, oh horror! it was that of a policeman, whom he had often seen in St. Petersburgh, and to whom he must have been personally known. Roslaf quickly looked around him. Not another human being was near. On one side, the street was bordered by the dead walls of the government store-houses—on the other, by the inner walls of the fortifications of the Citadel. A sudden twist liberated him from the careless grasp of the policeman, and turning round, he confronted him, and putting both hands into his pockets, pulled out, with his left hand a well-filled purse, with his right, a glistening pocket revolver, a masterpiece of Belgian workmanship. Holding both before the face of the bewildered policeman, he explained: 66 A sound, a step, and you are dead man. Be quiet, stand still and listen to me, and this,"-shaking the purse-" may be yours." The policeman did as he was bid, but with a countenance which, besides apprehension, expressed nothing but the most intense astonishment and curiosity. Roslaf hid his revolver in his breast-pocket, and sitting down on one of the large stones that were lying about, opposite the policeman, said: "I suppose you were sent here from St. Petersburgh purposely to apprehend me, if possible, as you knew me personally." "Knew you? man, are you mad? How should I know every loafing sausage-maker? (Nickname given to the Germans by the Russians.) But stop, I was indeed sent here to find a man whose face I had the honour of knowing in St. Petersburgh, some eight months ago. But you-" He stopped short, as if struck by a sud den thought, and looked Roslaf in the face, attentively, searchingly. Then he said slowly: "German sailor, and speaks Russian like a Christian! Ho, I know the voice! Your Brightness, I arrest you." "If you can. You will be dead first." Out came the revolver, the muzzle almost touching the policeman's nose, who bent back until his head touched the wall. "Put that thing away, please, for mercy's sake! It makes my blood run cold to look into that dark hole. Those things go off so easily!" Roslaf dropped his weapon and exclaimed, angrily, stamping his foot on the ground. "What a fool I have been, thus to betray myself to this fellow." "What a fool you have been !" echoed the policeman with great feeling. "But what in the world made you grasp me by the arm, if you did not know me asked Roslaf. "How could I know you, thus disguised? Nobody would know you. I merely wanted to ask you for a match, as I wanted to steal a short smoke in this retired place." "Well, Markof," said Roslaf, "you will not think of trying to arrest me, for if you hold your tongue and do not betray me, this purse shall be yours. It contains a hundred roubles." He swore a most solemn oath that Roslaf had nothing to fear from him, and pocketed the purse with exulting joy and innumerable expressions of gratitude. "As you are a friend now," said Roslaf, "I may want your advice and help. Where do you live? "In the Connaya Street, No. 60. I have a tenement of my own, as my wife lives with me." "That is lucky," thought Roslaf, and asked: "How many rooms have you got?" "Three, but I want to let one of them." "Very well, I take it. It will be safer for me to live with you, as that would place me beyond suspicion. If you keep me until I escape, and help me as much as you can, you shall have another hundred roubles on the day I leave Cronstadt." Markof stood for a while, weighing the greatness-to him-of the reward offered against the fearful risk he incurred if his part in the transaction should be discovered. At last he said: "Agreed! Rely on me as on yourself. But not a word to my wife. You know—a woman's tongue. And do not speak Russian so well. Say you are waiting for a brother from inland to join you, or something of that kind, you know." The same evening Roslaf became the lodger of the very man who had been sent to apprehend him, and whose interest it now was to help him to escape for his own safety's sake. The next morning, after breakfast, Markof entered the room of his lodger, who had assumed the name of Hans, and told him, with an air of great self-complaisance, that he had devised a means of obtaining the necessary papers for him. "I know a poor woman in Cronstadt," said he. "She is the widow of a copyist, and has got a son of about your age. This fellow had been a sailor on board English vessels for several years, and the woman told me some time ago that he intended to go and settle in England, where he has got a sweetheart. If you like to make it worth his while to let you have his papers and to keep his peace until you are beyond the reach of our police, I think you may get away. Shall I go and see the woman." "By all means. But how will the man explain the loss of his papers after I have got away? "That is easily done. After you are safely at sea he will petition the police for a new foreign passport, declaring that he lost his own, and in three weeks' time, and at an expense of about ten roubles, including 'private fees,' he will obtain new papers." The plan appeared to Roslaf to be very promising, and he awaited the return of his host with great anxiety. But when he did return, his disappointed looks shattered all poor Roslaf's hopes. "Just one hour too late. He sailed this morning." Although Roslaf was much annoyed at this failure, yet the very attempt had given him a fresh impulse and a new idea, which was likely to be successful in the end. Having invited Markof into his room, he told him that he thought it would be well and easier to obtain the papers of some foreign sailor, and Markof not only highly approved of the plan, but wondered how it had not occurred to himself before. "And," said he, "there is nobody more likely to transact this business more satisfactorily than that woman, the Swedish boarding-house keeper, with whom you lodged. However, you had better not show yourself in the streets, and let me go and arrange things with her." He went, and entering the humble home of the Swedish widow, put on an air of great dignity and severity. "Madam, I am a policeman from St. Petersburgh, sent here on purpose to apprehend a man who is trying to leave the country against the wish of the authorities." Poor "Madam," became very fidgety. "I have succeeded in catching that man, and he has confessed to me, that he not only lived with you for a week, but that you tried to help him to escape." The poor woman began to cry hysterically. "Yes, madam, you are a lost woman, unless I choose to keep this thing secret. As for him, he will do so if I ask him. it worth my while to do so?" Is "Oh sir," said she, laying her trembling hands imploringly on his sleeve, "I am but a poor widow. All I have at present is but twenty-five roubles. Take it, do take it, and do not ruin me, for God's sake!" She opened a drawer, and after searching in it for a while she produced a small roll of greasy bank notes, which she laid into another attempt at extortion, she should Markof's open palm. The latter carefully put the money into his pocket, then drew himself to his full height, and said, pompously: "Well, madam, listen to me. I will keep your secret if you promise me two things. The first is that you pay me another twenty roubles in two months' time. The second is this I want you to buy for me of some foreign sailor, coming from England, his papers of discharge from his ship, and to make a bargain with him that he stay with you for two weeks, at your cost, before trying to obtain other papers. Let him say that he lost his own. Will you do it ?" "I will, I will, if I can. I will try my best, Mr. Officer." "Very well, and look here, I myself will pay for the papers, whatever he may ask for them. Make the best bargain you can, but at the same time get the papers at any cost. You may come and tell me when you find a man willing to do so. Here is my address." boldly defy him, and tell him that, if he accused her, she would at once go to the Police-master's and tell him that Markof himself had not only been concealing the fugitive, but also ordered her to procure for him the papers necessary for leaving the country. This threat afterwards effectually protected the widow from Markof's visits. The next morning the widow came with the desired papers. They belonged to a German sailor who had come from Shields, as cook on a Whitby vessel. During the voyage he had so badly burnt the inside of his arm that he was unable to work. He had gladly accepted the offer of ten roubles and free board for his papers, and as Roslaf did not speak English, the German sailor tried to find a captain that was willing to engage him at "a shilling a month," or, in other words, to take him on board on condition that he should work for his passage. Roslaf did not wish to be classed as a passenger, for fear of exciting the suspicion of the Russian Naval Police Inspectors. In a With these words he stalked out of the few days a passage was found on board a house. At dusk, Roslaf, too impatient of leaving everything in the hands of Markof, paid the widow a visit, and having at last succeeded in allaying her fears and suspicions, he was told all about Markof's mode of serving him. He was exceedingly indignant, and at once refunded the twenty-five roubles, telling the overjoyed widow that if Markof made Hull steamer, and, dearly as Roslaf loved his native country, he was unspeakably happy when he saw its shores fading away in the distance. So much had he become accustomed to a life of continual danger, that it was a long time before he could realize that at last he was free, beyond the terrible grasp of despotism, and protected by the strong arm of "Glorious Old England." FELLOW-SUFFERERS. I. Alas, poor tree! had I thy bravery, Or couldst thou weep in concert to my sighing! I wail, but thou dost spread Bare arms of benediction o'er the dying. II. Thou their first stay and last, from bud to leaf, That they all fall from thee Like summer-friends when summer days are over; With all thy greenness gone, For winds to mock and winter snows to cover. III. Lightly the zephyr came, as lightly hied ;- Knowing thee faithful and the wind untried; Their graves are very near Close at thy roots the prodigals abide. IV. Ah, not reproach, but rather dirge and prayer: So low, who late were high, Fare worse for loss of thee than thou canst fare ;— Kissed once, and flung aside, And scent of death is on the autumn air. V. Alas, poor tree! thy fate and mine agree;— Alike our desolation and despair! A thousand leaves left thee, 'Twas but a dream left me, Yet is my life, as thine own branches, bare. ALICE HORTON. A DOWN THE ST. LAWRENCE ON A RAFT. HOLIDAY cruise on a timber raft | enthroned on a raft; its behests are there does not, at the mere mention of it, ignored, and the needs of the occasion alone suggest first thoughts of a very favourable control. Hence little luggage is required, and character. It would not probably move the the freedom from incumbrance which this "old salt" to enthusiasm, or rouse the spirit secures signifies lightness of heart, the natural of dilletanti yachtsmen. But a little reflection consequence of exemption from the imporby a staid landsman not given to nautical tunities of zealous hotel-porters and enerexploit save in its mildest forms; not gifted getic hackmen, as well as a total immunity with a levelness of head sufficient to warrant from the agony which accompanies the crashthe climbing of masts, or physical control ing and smashing of one's best and perhaps adequate to the exigencies of a rolling sea; only trunk. The raftsman on his voyage will convince him, at least, that there are does not have his temper tried by the some peculiar features, some characteristic impertinence of waiters, which, apart from attractions connected with such a mode of its moral worth, is a boon only appreseeking diversion, which recommend it as ciable to its full extent by the steamboat worthy of consideration. Travel by raft has passenger desirous of cultivating a relish no touters, no guide-books, no flaming ad- for his victuals. He is not compelled to apvertisements to laud, or even to indicate the pease his appetite at the expense of his manadvantages it possesses over the usual modes ners by being compelled to fight his way to of transit; so it must of necessity look for his meals under penalty of languishing in patronage to those who are fond of medita- semi-starvation until the third table is rung tion, are not in a hurry, and are content with up. He is not driven to decide between occasional spells of excitement. The ordi- dyspepsia-producing beefsteak and a variety nary summer tourist, who does the St. Law- of dry delicacies which give the table of a rence and other fashionable routes in a steamboat a unique, a too familiar, a neversteamboat, and fancies that the chief end of to-be-forgotten appearance; or to strain the man has been attained, that the cup of plea-axis of his mind in the endeavour to decide sure has been drained to the dregs, and enjoyment penetrated to the kernel, will welcome with gratitude the information that there is a world of novelty yet unconquered, and a means of slaking a thirst for sensation yet untapped. But this ordinary tourist must not give way to extravagant ecstacy at the announcement; the charms of raft travel are for the few, not the many; and, as has been hinted, the capacity to discover and appreciate them is limited by conditions of an onerous character. However, there are palpable advantages in favour of the raft tourist over those enjoyed homeopathically by the steamboat passenger. Fashion does not sit fairly between the merits of the tea and the coffee, or to arrive at a definite conclusion respecting their similarities and differences. He is not moved to bitter envy by witnessing nice distinctions drawn between those who shall get state-rooms and those whose fate it is to be accommodated with spaces under the piano or on the dining-table; nor is his bachelorhood, if so it be, put to open shame by a curt negation of its claims to attention until everybody else is told off. He is not kept awake at night by the giggling of girls, nor put to sleep in the day-time by their incessant chatter. No! the raftsman is his own waiter. He takes his meals when |