In the district of Poltava the chief town is a small place called Romny, and in this little town there is a girls’ school. Two or three of the scholars hit upon the idea of lending one another books, and making notes on them—not books that were in any way forbidden, but that were accessible to all. Soon a few young men joined them; and thus a small reading society was formed, such as might help to pass away the long winter evenings in the dull little provincial town. As these young people had no idea that they were committing any offence, they naturally never dreamt of keeping their proceedings secret. But the eye of the law is sleepless! The officer commanding the gendarmerie in that place saw and triumphed. For years he had been vegetating in this obscure corner of the empire, and had never unearthed the least little conspiracy, nor brought to light a secret society; now was his chance. He could at last make manifest his burning zeal, his devotion to his country and his Tsar; and recognition by his superiors, perhaps an order or promotion, shone before him. One night the gendarmerie paid domiciliary visits to the dwellings of the young ladies of the school. Certainly nothing suspicious was found, but the frightened girls “confessed” that they had “held meetings,” and that they read books in a “society.” This was enough for the brave sergeant; here were grounds for the State to take action against the “secret society of Romny.” The girls and their friends were arrested and imprisoned; a report was sent to Petersburg about the discovery of a secret society, in which such and such persons had taken part, and discussed “social questions” together; the officer was of opinion that these evildoers should be sent to Siberia;—and the thing was done. When these boys and girls told me their simple tale and explained the nature of their “crimes,” unflattering as was my opinion of legal proceedings in Russia, I could hardly believe that there was nothing more behind this. Only when I became more closely acquainted with these “conspirators of Romny” and other “criminals” of their class, was I convinced that no suggestion of fancy is too slight and unsubstantial to be formulated as a ground for prosecution and banishment of the most harmless people by the gendarmerie, the secret police, and the other guardians of public safety in Russia. After having been imprisoned for a considerable time, these young people were now being exiled to Siberia for three years; but as travelling on the Siberian rivers can only begin in the month of May, they were to pass the winter with us in the Moscow Central Prison for exiles; in other words, they must remain for another six or eight months under lock and key.