Rensselaer Republican, Volume 13, Number 30, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 14 April 1881 — The Boy Emigrant. [ARTICLE]

The Boy Emigrant.

Many years ago, when Peter the Great was Czar of Russia, and when the improvements he was making all over the country, gave foreign workmen a fine chance of earning high wages, a number of emigrants landed one ooid winter morning at one of the Russian ports on the mi If of Finland, to see if they could find work, as so many others had done. A curious mixture they were—men, women- and children from every country on either side of the Baltic. Tall fresh colored Swedes, in gray frocks and thick, blue stockings; stout, light haired Germans, and ruddy, blue®y*f Danes; big boned Pomeranians, with low foreheads and shaggy brown beards; and short, squat Finns, whose round puffer feces and thick yellow, hair gave them the look of over-boiled apple dumplings. But their first taste of Russia was not at all a pleasant one. At the port where they nad landed it was the rule wA* l all emigrants who came ashore should be kept at one place until the Czar's agent came to examine them; and the place where they were kept wna an old ware-house, very large and dismal looking, with nothing in it but a few old sails and some heaps of

straw. Here they remained for a few days, while the snow fell and the wind roared outside, their food being brought to them by the soldiers of the port. The men smoked their pipes and played cards, the women knitted stockings or mended the clothes of their husbands and children, while the little people played hide-and-seek in and out of tne dark corners, and made the gloomy old place quite merry with their shouts and laugnter. But there was one boy (a brighteyed little fellow, with brown curly faiair) who took no part in the fun. bat satin a corner by himself, chalking curious figures on the wall, which he seemed to copy from the book in his other hand. Any one who had looked closely at these figures .would have seen that they were letters—Russian letters —and that sometimes he would write a whole word at once, and then put the meaning opposite in the German. In feet, he was teaching himself the language of thia new country he had got into, and seemed to be pretSwell on with it, for every now and en he would leave off writing and read a page of his book, without meeting a single word he could not master. “Look at Karl Osterman yonder, slaving away at that book of his!” said one of the men. “Much good that’ll do him! As it one could saw a plank or hammer a rivet any better for knowing that crack-jaw lingo!” “He’s going to teach the Russians their own language—that’s what he’s at!” grinned another. “A regular professor, alnthe? far too clever for poor fellows like us!” “Ay, he’ll be a great man one of these days,” chimed in a third, with a hoarse laugh, “and then, perhaps he’ll be kina enough to glre us a job.”

Little Karl’s eyes sparkled, and he set his lips firmly, as if making up his mina that he would be a great man yet, somehow or other; but he said nothing and went quietly on with his work.. Suddenly the aoor flew open, and in came a Russian soldier in a shabby green uniform, trimmed with faded gold lace. He was a very tall and powerful man, with a dark, weather-Deaten face, and great black eyes that seemed to pierce right through any one whom they looked at. “I say my good tellows,” he cried, “here’s an order from the Czar, which I’m to paste up in this room; and I want to have it In German ana Sweedish as wellas Russian.that every one who comes in may be able to read it. Perhaps one of you would lend me a helping nand with the job, for I’m not very glib with foreign languages myself.’’ The men glanced meaningly at each other, and the two who had been making fun of Osterman looked rather sheepish, as if thinking that they had better been learning Russian themselves instead of laughing at him. “I’ll do it for you Mr. Soldier,” said little Osterman, stepping boldly forward, “if there aren’t any very big words in it. I’ve only got as far as three-syllable words in Russian vet, you know.” The soldier starea at him for a moment and then began to laugh. “Well, my boy,'l don’t think you’ll And many big words on this paper; it’s pretty plain sailing as far as it goes: . Bee if you can read it. — Karl took the paper and read it off easily enough. “Well, done, my fine fellow!” cried the Russian; “yon’re a smart lad of your age. I can see that. Now try if you can put it into German” To work went our hero - , with a look as solemn as any professor on his little round face. Once or twice he stopped as if at a loss for a word; but he got through at last, and having finished the German, began upon the Swedish. “What? do you know Swedish, too?” cried his new friend “Why, man, you’re a perfect dictionary!” “My mother was a Swede,” answered Osterman, “and she taught me her own language; and my father was a German, and ne taught me his.” “You’re a lucky fallow!” said the Russian, with a sigh, “I only wish I’d had some one to teach me when I was of your age, I should know a great deal more than I do.” “What? didn’t your father teach you then?” “He died when I was a mere child,” said the Russian, sadly, “and my mother too.” “Oh, dear, I’m so sorry! But had you no brothers or sisters?’.

“I had a brother, but he was blind, poor fellow* and couldn’t help me; and as for my sister, (here his face darkened fearfully), instead of being kind to me, she tried to have me killed!” “What a shame!” cried the boy, indignantly, clinching a fist about the size of a large plum. “I only wish I’d been your brother!—l wouldn’t have let any body touch you! This valiant promise of protection made by a tiny boy to a stalwart soldier of six feet three, tickled the other emigrants so much that they burst into a roar of laughter which made -the old walls ring But the soldier did not laugh; he only passed his hand tenderly over the child’s curly head, and then stooped to look at the book which Karl had been reading. “Ah! the story of Ilia, the Strong.—l used to be very fond of it when 1 was a boy. How do you like it?” 'I “Very much indeed. I didn’t think I’d have time to finish it. when they said the Czar was coming to lbok at us; but I suppose he is too busy amusing himself to care about us poor fellows.” The soldier gave suoh a terrible frown that the men nearest him started back in dismay, and even Osterman himself look startled.—Bat the next moment the Russian’s face cleared again, though he was still very sad. “You shouldn’t talk like that, my boy,” said he; “the Czar would have come to you directly after you landed, if he hadn’t been ill. However, he’s well again now, and I should**t wonder if you were to see him here to day.” Just then the doer opened again and in tramped a dozen grand-look-ing officers in splendid uniforms, the foremost of whom, making a low bow to the shabby soldier, said, very respectfully, “All is ready, your majesty.”

“At the word “majesty,” all the emigrants started as if they had been shot; for they nofr saw that this shabby looking fellow, whom they had taken for a common soldier was no other than the Czar, Peter the Great, himself. But little Osterman did not seem frightened in the least. He slid his soft Tittle hand into the Emperor’s huge brown fistjlhd cried. “I’m so glad you’re a after all, for the Czars that I’ve read about were very bad fellows, indeed, and I know I shouldn’t have liked “Well, well, my boy,” said Peter clapping him on the shoulder, with a hearty laugh, “I hope you’ll find me a little better than some of them, even though I am an Emperor. Come along with me and I’ll find you something better to do than chalking an old wall.” The boy went with his new friend, and any history of Russia will tell you how high Osterman rose, and what great things he accomplished. Peter the Great made him his secretary; the Empress Catherine I. made him chamberlain and the Czar Petter 11. gave him a title of honor; and before the

Empress Anne had been many yean on the throne the little student whom his comrades had laughed at in the old warehouse, thirty years before, had become Count Osterman, prime minister to Russia.—David Ker.