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M'ABDOOTH L'CHEROOTH

FROM SLAVERY TO
FREEDOM

"Oh, liberty! heaven's choice prerogative!
True bond of law! the social soul of property!
Thou breath of reason! life of life itself!"

T

BROOKE.

HIS year we are slaves; next year we shall be free!"

The words (read from the "Hagadah" at the family banquet table on the first two eves of Passover) almost choked Shebsl Pravnik. Tears flowed down his haggard cheeks; his handsome features contracted. With eyes With eyes directed on high, and biting his lower lip in order to constrain himself, he presented a pitiful picture of despair. Yet a certain something in the sad face betokened hope and faith, the guiding stars in the firmament of darkness. Woeful as this face appeared

at the first glance, so fascinating, even charming it became to Golda, daughter of Reb Simche Pogoda, whose guest for the "Seder " Shebsl was.

In 1864, shortly after the suppression of the Poles' attempt to regain their country from the clutches of Austria, Germany, and, above all, Russia, the most hated and abhorred by them, the house of Reb Simche Pogoda was one night surrounded by Cossacks and without a word of explanation Reb Simche was aroused from his sleep, and, scarcely given time to dress, was chained, and with the detachment on their fiery steeds in front and behind of him, he, on foot, was marched off toward Warsaw, where, sorefooted and suffering from cold and hunger, besides his agony of mind, he was put into solitary confinement in the citadel.

Reb Simche was a sutler to the army, filling large contracts with the government

for hay and grain. Because of his scrupulous honesty in all his large business dealings, and his broad philanthropy among all classes, regardless of creed, he was loved and honored by Jew and Gentile alike. Little wonder then that the news of his arrest spread like wildfire. Three days later Count Korolewitsch, the commandant of the Modlin fortification, dispatched a messenger to the grief-stricken wife of Pogoda bidding her to come at once to Modlin, but enjoining her to observe the strictest silence. The following morning a carriage awaited her at the depot and conveyed her immediately to the home of the Count.

Count Korolewitsch was a man of high standing both as to nobility of birth and of character and, at this time, was of middle age, handsome in physique and dignified and courtly in bearing. As a youth he had been led into wayward companionship and

on the very threshold of manhood stood wavering at the parting of the roads. One night, after hours at the gaming table, his young blood fired by wine, he returned to his home and meeting with a severe rebuke of his father, he rushed pell-mell from the house and took refuge in an inn where, overwhelmed by shame and disgrace which in his excited mind the proud youth thought he could never live down, he was on the point of putting an end to his life when a heavy blow on the arm caused the revolver to fall from his grasp. The shock, as well as the force of the blow he received, brought the young man to his senses, and a full realization of his folly rushed upon him like a flood. Pale and trembling in every limb, he sank exhausted into a chair. Burying his face in his hands, heavy sobs convulsed him. These soon ceased and a few moments of deathlike silence elapsed -moments during which a fierce struggle

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