and are brought back as often, is great; and many "unfortunates" spend the last days of their lives in trying to get back to Russia, and being re-transported to the colony.
This is the shadow-side of the convict's existence: I will now briefly sketch the bright side. A convict, who has become skilled in mining, repents of his offense, submits to his fate, works industriously, and conducts himself well in every respect, and ventures in time to open his heart to the director and ask to have his situation improved. The officer encourages him, gives him good advice, and permits him, after he has suffered three, four, or five years of punishment, to have his chains replaced by lighter ones, and, when he is convinced that the man is really reformed, grants him a settlement. Thus the prisoner has become a free man, except that he is never permitted to leave the district to which he is assigned. Now, the advantage of the system that permits the family of the prisoner to go with him to the place of punishment is manifested. The man has, during his long years of hard labor, been with his wife and children, has gained courage and strength in this family life, and has become a good man. The presence of his family has been a blessing to him. When in other countries the doors of the prison close upon a condemned man, the world is no more to him—all connection between him and his is severed; while to the Russian prisoner is left the comfort of his family, a strong anchor that holds his heart fast against the tumult of his sufferings. The released miner goes with his family to the settlement which has been designated for him. He has nothing but the bare land, his own strong will, and his energy inured to suffering. The village must extend a hand to him and advance the means for setting up an independent establishment. He is furnished a house—of course a very poor one—farming-tools, seed-corn, and a start in live-stock. Now, he begins a new life. After the first harvest is gathered, and what is necessary for his bare support has been reserved, he goes bravely to work to discharge his obligations to the commune. After ten years at latest, he will have made good to the last grain of corn, and he then becomes the owner of an estate free of debt, for which he has only to pay a small ground-rent, and has the satisfaction of knowing that after his death his children will be free men in a home founded by him.
Now, how does the condition of a person discharged from prison in one of the so-called civilized countries compare with that of this Siberian? The last spark of self-respect that may be left in him is extinguished by the reception society gives him. Contempt, suspicion, and scorn meet him at every step. Neither Government nor society will give him the means of rehabilitating himself by labor and of founding a new existence, and he sinks deeper and deeper, with no way of escape open to him, into crime and ever again into crime.
Pardoned convicts or their children are living in nearly every town and village of the Altai region, and this fact is the origin of the
