not irreligious, he did not set her an example of fervent and real piety; and even her mother, who was more attentive to these higher duties, was too little informed to awaken piety in hearts that were unprepared for religious culture. But Prascovia needed neither encouragement nor advice. To an exquisite sensibility, she united an excellent judgment, which, in the last three years, had acquired so much strength, that her parents began to listen, in their debates and domestic concerns, to her remarks, and she obtained insensibly a sufficient ascendancy over them to propose again, and to support with less hesitation, her great project. Yet her parents, in losing the advantage they had over her, in laughing at her presumption, did not render their resistance and objections less painful to her by representing how much her absence would increase their difficulties. With tears and a thousand endearments they told her that they had neither friends nor resources of any kind in Russia, and that upon her depended all their comfort, and in part their subsistence. "Could she leave her parents in a desert," they asked her, "to undertake a distant journey, which might prove fatal to herself, and imbitter the rest of their lives, instead of procuring them their liberty?" Prascovia could only answer with tears such reasoning; but, far from wavering in her determination, she grew every day more resolute and confident.

The opposition of her parents was not the only, nor the greatest obstacle she had to overcome. She could not set out on her pilgrimage, nor even leave her village, without a passport. In not answering the letters of her father, the governor of Tobolsk had given no encouragement to the hope that he would favor her plan.

Fortunately for her, there was in the village another prisoner, born in Russia, and son of a German tailor. This man had been servant to a student in the university of Moscow, and had, on the strength of that connection, assumed the reputation of a free-thinker amongst the rude villagers and prisoners, to whom he rendered himself serviceable, by his exertions in the useful art of his father. He sometimes

visited Lopouloff, and we are sorry to say, was permitted to laugh at his daughter, and to nickname her "St. Prascovia." She did not much care for it, but supposing that an unbeliever must at least know how to write, she hoped he would prepare for her a petition to the governor, which she thought her father would readily consent to send, if he had no other trouble than to sign it.

It happened that one evening, when she was about to pack up the linen which she had washed in the river, and was turning her steps homeward, Neyler (for that was the name of the free-thinker) met her while she was making the sign of the cross-an usual acccompaniment to prayers in her religion. Neyler said to the poor girl: "Had you made some more gesticulations of that sort, your linen, by a miracle, would have returned home without your being at the trouble of carrying it on your back; but I will do as much for you without entreaties, and show you that infidels, whom you hate so much, are glad to help their neighbors." He did not give her time to make any objection, but taking the parcel, he went along with her towards the village. As they proceeded, it occurred to Prascovia, that the "philosopher" might be in a mood of extending farther his services to her, and write the petition to the governor; but his science did not go so far. He pretended that since he had begun his handicraft, he had bidden adieu to all literary pursuits, but he fortunately knew a man who could render her the service she desired. Prascovia felt obliged for the information he gave her about that individual, and rejoiced in the thought that she should, not later than the next day, make a decisive step towards the execution of her great project. When she entered the habitation of her parents, she found them in company with some of their acquaintance, to whom Neyler immediately imparted the service he had rendered her, in sparing her the trouble of working miracles by her prayers. He was not a little disconcerted, when Prascovia said, in answer to this and some other silly jests of the same sort: Why should I not put my whole confidence in the divine goodness, when I remember that after a short

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prayer, a professed infidel voluntarily rendered me his services: was not that a miracle?" The whole company laughed heartily at the discomfited tailor, who, instead of waiting for better success on a new attack, silently strutted off.

The next day, Prascovia called on the person whom Neyler had mentioned to her, and who promised to write the petition, in the requisite form, but informed her that she, and not her father, ought to sign it. After some new difficulties, her father at last yielded, and forwarded the petition, with a letter of his own, relative to his personal situation.

From that moment Prascovia ceased to feel unhappy, her health improved rapidly, and her parents wondered and rejoiced to see her suddenly recover her former gaiety. This change had no other source than a strong conviction that she should obtain the desired passport, and an unlimited confidence in the protection of her Creator. She often extended her walks far on the road of Tobolsk, in the hope of meeting a state messenger. For some time she regularly called on the old soldier who distributed the letters, at the place where the post horses were kept; but she was soon discouraged from repeating her inquiries, by the rudeness with which the man in office received her, and by the jests in which he indulged on her projected pilgrimage.

Nearly six months had already elapsed since Lopouloff had forwarded the petition, when a person came to inform him that a messenger, just arrived at the post-house, had brought several letters. Prascovia ran in all haste, and was followed by her parents. When Lopouloff had reached the place and told his name, the messenger delivered to him a sealed packet, containing a passport for his daughter, and asked for a receipt. This was a moment of great joy for the whole family. In the entire abandonment in which they had been left for many years, the granted passport seemed to them a great mark of protection. Yet there was no answer to the requests which Lopouloff had addressed to the governor on his own affairs. His daughter being neither slave nor prisoner, could not be re

tained in Siberia against her will, and the passport was, therefore, in fact, but an act of strict justice. The silence of the governor as to what might be considered a reliance on the emperor's mercy and forgiveness, seemed, on the contrary, to prove that he did not in any way feel himself authorised to mitigate his sufferings.

Inferences and reflections of such a nature, soon damped the first joyous emotions of his heart. Lopouloff took the passport, and, in a fit of disappointment and ill-humor, protested that he had petitioned for it, in the expectation that it would be refused, like his other requests, and only to free himself from the importunities of his daughter.

Prascovia followed her parents to their habitation without uttering a single word, but full of hope, and thanking God for having heard her prayers. Her father enveloped her passport in a handkerchief, and laid it between his clothes. Prascovia was glad to observe that he took so much care of it, for she had feared he would tear it into pieces, and she ascribed that behavior to a particular design of Providence, who judged probably that the propitious moment for executing her plan was not yet arrived. She hastened to her ordinary retreat in the grove, where she passed two hours in fervent devotion. Her prayers were rather thanksgivings than new petitions. Her heart beat with joyous presentiments; all her anxieties were at an end, and her piety increased her transports.

These details may at first seem too minute: but when we shall have shown how the enterprise of this poor girl was successful beyond her own hopes, against all probability,—and notwithstanding the numberless difficulties which she had to encounter, our readers will be convinced, that no human agency could have lent her the neces sary strength, and that she could owe it only to that "Faith which overcomes the world." Prascovia saw the will of heaven in every event: "My confidence in God," said she often afterwards, "has been frequently put to severe trials, but was never deceived." An incident which occurred, a few days after the arrival of the messenger, would have strengthened her courage, if it

had not been still more calculated to diminish the resistance of her parents. Her mother could not be called a superstitious woman, but she endeavored often to beguile her actual cares, by endeavoring to explain certain incidents of her monotonous life, as prognostics of better times; and, without believing in good or evil days, she carefully avoided beginning any thing on a Sunday; and, when salt was dropped on the table, regarded it as an accident, if not absolutely ominous, at least not perfectly indifferent. She sometimes opened the Bible, to find in the first passage that should present itself, something that might bear on her situation, or furnish a lucky omen, a practice quite common in Russia, for investigating the secrets of futurity. If the passage in Scripture is insignificant, the book is closed and consulted again, and, by a "liberal construction," an ingenious mind is not long without finding what it desires. Those who are under the pressure of misfortune, readily believe all that can mitigate their sorrows, and, without giving implicit faith to such presages, experience some relief, never probably remembering their fallacy, when wanting and seeking new consolation.

Lopouloff ordinarily read to his family, every evening, a chapter of Scripture, and explained the Sclavonish words which his wife and daughter did not understand; the latter waited always anxiously for such instruction. At the close of a melancholy evening, they were sitting silently at the table, the Bible before them, after the usual lecture, when Prascovia, without any other view than to re-animate the conversation, begged her mother to read the eleventh line of the right page, wherever she should open the book. The mother took it speedily, opened it with a pin, and counting the lines, she read aloud the eleventh, containing these words: "And the angel of God called to Hagar out of heaven, and said unto her what aileth thee, Hagar? fear not." This passage seemed to have a striking application to the journey she meditated. With enthusiastic joy, she seized the Bible, and kissed several times the auspicious page. "This is truly re

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markable," said the mother, fixing her on her husband. But he was not prone to favor their opinions, and declaimed violently against these superstitions : "Do you imagine," said he, " that a human creature can interrogate the Almighty, by opening a book at random with a pin, and that He would condescend to indulge your foolish whims?-no doubt," added he, addressing himself to his daughter, "no doubt an angel will be ready to accompany you in your peregrination, and minister to all your wants. Do you not see the folly of indulging such ridiculous fancies ?"

Prascovia replied, that she was far from expecting that an angel would appear to assist her in her undertaking; "but," said she, "I believe firmly, that my guardian angel will not forsake me, and that the object of my hopes will be ultimately accomplished, though I should even abandon it." Lopouloff felt his resolution shaken by this strange perseverance; yet another month passed, without any further discourse about Prascovia's departure. She became silent and pensive; courted solitude; spent more time than ever in the place where she prayed, and seemed to have forgotten her usual tenderness for her parents. They began to fear that she was serious, when she threatened to depart without the passport, and their anxiety increased whenever she returned later than usual. One day they had already given up the hope of seeing her again. Prascovia, on returning from church, whither she had gone alone, had accompanied a few peasant girls to a hamlet in the neighborhood, and had spent several hours there. When she came home, her mother took her in her arms, and said to her, with a faltering voice: "Thou hast been very late, Prascovia; we feared that thou hadst gone forever." "You will soon have that mortification," replied her daughter, "if you do not give me the passport, and you will then regret having refused it, and parted with me, without giving me your blessings." In saying these words, she did not return the caresses of her mother, whom her melancholy and altered voice affected deeply. Anxious to tranquillize her, the poor mother promised

not to combat in future her determination, but to let it depend entirely on herself and her father. Prascovia did not urge her, but her profound distress was more persuasive than the liveliest entreaties, and her father also felt sadly her alteration. One morning, his wife begged him to bring some potatoes from the small garden which they cultivated. Lost in a train of gloomy reflections, he seemed at first not to listen to her; but recovering suddenly, he roused himself and said: "6 Come, help thyself, and I will help thee." When he had finished these words, he took a hoe and went into the garden; his daughter followed him: "Yes, father, we must help ourselves, when we labor under misfortunes, and I hope that God will graciously aid me in the entreaties I come to make you, and that He will move your heart. Give me the passport, dear and unfortunate father! believe, oh believe, it is the will of the Almighty! can you wish to force your daughter to disobey you?" All the while she addressed her father, she embraced his knees, and endeavored, by that mixture of firmness and humility, to inspire him with the hopes which filled her own heart. Her mother having joined them, she begged her to help her to convince her father; but the good woman could not be persuaded to do it. She could master her feelings sufficiently to consent to her daughter's departure, but she had not courage to advise her husband to follow her example. However, Lopouloff could no longer resist such affecting entreaties, and he saw, besides, too clearly, the decided character of his daughter: "How dissuade this child?" exclaimed he; "we must let her do her will." Enraptured with these words, Prascovia threw herself on his neck. "Be sure, dear, dear father," said she, co

vering him with kisses, "be sure that you will not repent having complied with my wishes. I will go, yes, I will go to St. Petersburg; I will kneel before the emperor; and Providence, who inspired the thought, and touched my heart, will move also that of our good sovereign in your favor.""Dost thou think, poor child, that it is possible to address an emperor, as thou speakest to thy father? Sentinels watch at every entry of his palace, and thou wilt never find means to pass its threshold. A poor beggar girl, without clothes and without recommendation, how couldst thou dare to appear before him; or who would present thee or befriend thee?"

Prascovia could not gainsay the ordinary probability of a failure, but did not yield to it. A secret presentiment triumphed in her bosom over the ordinary suggestions of reason. "I too feel the fears with which your kindness for me fills you," she replied, "but what are they in comparison with my hopes? Think only, dear father; remember how many unexpected favors God has already granted me, because I had put my trust in Him! When I had not the least hope of obtaining a passport, He sent an infidel to point out to me the means of obtaining it. The Almighty softened the heart of the inexorable governor of Tobolsk. Lastly, has He not overcome your reluctance, and obliged you to consent to my departure? Be, therefore, certain, my dear father, that Providence, who alone could have enabled me to triumph over so many obstacles, and who has protected me until now, will know how to carry me safely to the feet of our Sovereign. Providence will put in my mouth convincing words, and your liberty shall reward you for the permission you have given me."