Kuba went with Vitek in the same direction; but when it became quite dark, the former crawled further on—away to the old burial-ground. There the forgotten ones lay—those whose very memory had perished long ago, with their days, and the times they lived in, and all the past. There, only ill-omened birds uttered hoarse croakings, and the bushes rustled mournfully near some cross of rotting wood that still remained standing here and there. In this forgotten nook lay side by side whole families, hamlets, generations: no one came there to pray, to shed tears, to light lamps any more. The gale alone blew fiercely through the boughs, tore off the last of their leaves, and tossed them away into the night, to be lost therein. And voices howled that were not voices; and shadows moved—but were they only shadows?—striking at random against the trees, as though they had been blinded birds, and seeming to moan and beg for pity! Kuba took from his bosom several pieces of bread that he had put by. Kneeling down, he broke them, and threw the morsels about among the tombs. “Food for you there is, O Christian soul!” he whispered, very earnestly. “I forget you not at eventide.—Food for you, O sufferer that was mortal!—Food for you!” “And will they take it?” Vitek asked in terror. “Beyond doubt!—Our priest forbids it.[19]—The others put the food into those barrels, and these poor creatures get nothing. But what? Shall the priest’s and the _Dziads’_ swine have to eat, and Christian ghosts stray starving!” ----- Footnote 19: Because it was a superstition: a very old one, no doubt, come down from prehistoric times, and now all but dead in Poland, if not quite so. Mickiewicz’s poem “Dziady” deals with something similar which he came across in Lithuania, about a century ago.—_Translator’s Note._ “Ah! will they come hither?” “Yea, all who suffer the cleansing fires—all. Jesus lets them back to earth for to-day, to visit their people.” “To visit them!” Vitek repeated, shuddering. “Fear not. On this day, nothing evil has any power to harm: the Memorial offerings have driven him away—him, the bad Angel! So have the lamps. And our Lord comes in person about the world, and He, the beloved Shepherd, goes counting how many souls are His yet, and choosing from amongst them.” “Oh, does our Lord Jesus come to the earth to-day?” Vitek said faintly, looking around. “Do you think to see Him? That only Saints can do—and persons greatly wronged.” “See, see, lights are there; and there are people too,” Vitek cried out in alarm, and he pointed to a long row of graves close to the hedge. “Ah, there lie those slain during our insurrection. Yes, my master lies there; aye, and my mother too.”