'Don't cry, mother,' said Ivan, the eldest, a robust young man of twenty, as he twined his anna about her neck. 'Don't cry, I'm sure there's a great) mistake some where, and ib will soon be found out., Father will be back in a day or two.'

Nadia, a rosy-cheeked girl of nineteen, added her efforts to those of her brother, and gave utterance to hopes like those we htive just heard from his lip?. • Yes—yes,' was the reply, ' there has been a mistake; of course, there has been a mistake. But mistakes are not easily cor rected in this country, and your poor father may be years in prison before the blunder bhabeenb him there is found out.'

' No, mother, ib can'b be ras bad as that, indeed it can't,' said Ivan. * I'm sure we'll see dear father at home in a day or two, I'm sure of it.'

The mother waa about to speak, but prudence restrained her and she was silent. it is dangerous for a Russian to talk about politics, even to the members of his own household, lest they, innocently, reveal to the ears of a prying spy, something that ha 9 been said in an unguarded moment.
