The candy factory of “Krakhmalnikoff Brothers,” where my friend was employed, had several departments, and work was found for me in the “wrapping department.” Several hundred girls were engaged there in putting candy into ready-cut pieces of paper. The work was very simple, and after a couple of hours I learned to do it.

Toward the end of the day the tips of my fingers became so sensitive that the contact of the stiff paper caused me terrible pain. Drops of blood oozed through the thin skin. I looked helplessly at my hands, not knowing how to continue the work. The girls tried to comfort me:

“Don’t be afraid, it is always like this the first days. It will pass.”

The working-hours at the factory were from seven in the morning to seven in the evening, allowing one hour for luncheon. The girls were paid by the _pood_[5]—fifteen kopecks. There were girls who could wrap up two and one-half poods, and thus earned thirty-seven kopecks. This was considered a big wage, and very few could work so fast and earn so much.

Before seven o’clock all carried their work upstairs to be weighed. To my great surprise I had wrapped up only half a pood. When leaving the factory we were searched. I found it a very embarrassing experience. This search was conducted every evening. If any girl was found to have some candy, she was immediately discharged.

For over six months I worked in this factory. The tips of my fingers became as hard as leather. The searches no longer embarrassed me. There were days when I wrapped up two and one-half poods and earned thirty-seven kopecks, to the great delight of our circle.

There were six of us living in a sort of commune,—Zhenia, a factory girl of twenty-two, who was a most ardent agitator and strike organizer; David, a clerk; Grigory, a bookbinder, who had already been in prison for distributing prohibited literature; Nicholai, a painter, who became a socialist and joined our circle after his release from prison, where he was put for preaching Tolstoyism; Ivan, the only intelliguént in our circle; and myself. It seldom happened that we all had work; sometimes the whole circle lived on the earnings of one or two. There were days when none of us had anything to do, and we waited for the evening when Ivan would come and lay his last coppers on the table. Then we ate our “breakfast.”

But such trifles did not trouble the people of our circle. They were all engaged in revolutionary activities, and entirely taken up by their work. They established secret printing-offices, and printed and distributed proclamations by the thousands. They organized new educational circles, and were doing propaganda work among the mill and factory workers. Of course, each one of them knew that prison, solitary confinement, and exile were their inevitable lot, but this did not deter them in the least. Although they awaited arrest at any hour of the day or night, they spent their spare time as merrily as if nothing special were going to happen to them.

I did not long remain “green” among these people. They soon opened my eyes to the realities of life. I still dreamed of a better life, but I saw that its realization was a possibility of the distant future.

With youthful ardor I began to agitate among the factory girls to strike for higher pay. The foreman soon found it out, and discharged me. I found work in an envelope factory, but as I continued my agitation there also, I soon had to look for another place.

Thus, in constant changing from one factory to another, two years passed. Our little circle had grown considerably, and became known in the revolutionary movement as the “Southern Group.” Of the old members, besides myself, only David remained. Zhenia and Ivan were in prison, Grigory was exiled to Siberia, and Nicholai was sent to serve in the army.

In the meantime a new revolutionary organization came into existence in Russia, the “Socialist-Revolutionists’ Party.” Its aims and ideals were similar to those of the Social-Democratic Party, but it differed from the latter by its program and the methods it adopted in its struggle against the tyranny of the Government.

One of the most fundamental planks in the new party’s platform was, “Land for the Peasants.” Although my life and interests were no longer those of the village; although I was entirely absorbed in the struggles of a city worker, deep down in my heart I still remained a peasant, and my sympathies were with them. I remembered the misery in which my own kinsfolk and millions of other peasants lived and I joined the new party. Nearly the whole “Southern Group” followed me into the fold of the new organization.

My first act of allegiance to the party almost led to my arrest. We received a trunkful of proclamations from the Kief headquarters of the organization, and about twenty people undertook to distribute them. I and several others went to the theater. We sat in the gallery, in different corners, and waited for the end of the performance. As soon as the curtain was lowered, each of us threw down two bundles of proclamations. The whole parterre floor was covered with them. The policemen who were stationed in the building immediately ran to the gallery. One of the theater ushers, who was standing at the door, saw me throw the proclamations. He grabbed me by the shoulders and called for the police. But the gallery was thronged with working-men and students who all sympathized with us. A dozen hands seized me and tore me away from his grasp. A fight started. Some one threw a large kerchief on my head. When the police reached our floor, they locked the door and began to look for the culprits. The fight became general. The usher, accompanied by a policeman, vainly looked for me. I was already seated at the other end of the gallery, looking quite unconcerned. The gray kerchief saved me from his detecting eye.

LIEUTENANT PETER PETROVICH SHMIDT

Implicated in the Uprising of the Sevastopol fleet, executed in 1906 ]

One of the most pressing needs of our group was the establishment of a secret printing-office. The shipments of literature from Kief were, of necessity, very irregular and attended with great risks. It was found impossible to establish one at Odessa, as the gendarmes were on our track. Several members of our group had already been arrested. It was, therefore, decided to do our printing at Kishinev, which city is several hours’ ride from Odessa. I do not know what inspired them with such confidence in me, but I was chosen by the executive committee for this responsible undertaking. Naturally, I was very proud of their high opinion of my abilities as a conspirator.

With a suit-case filled with type and various typographical paraphernalia, I came to Kishinev and settled in a quiet little lane. A new sign with a boot painted on it, bearing the inscription “Repairing neatly done,” was placed over the front door. Inside a cobbler’s bench with a complete set of instruments bore testimony to our honorable occupation. A local comrade spent there a couple of hours every day mending my old shoes. Under this cloak I kept my suit-case containing the typographic outfit.

I found work as a seamstress. Not wishing to remain alone at night, I slept at the house of an old couple whose daughter was one of my Odessa friends. She had written them about me, and they were glad to accommodate me. They lived with their granddaughter, a little girl of eight.

Thus I established myself, and waited for the promised compositor and “copy” to arrive. But days and weeks passed, and they did not come. I wrote letter after letter, without getting any reply. Finally I decided to go to Odessa myself to investigate. But a very unfortunate circumstance prevented me from carrying out my decision.

Footnote 4:

Cabmen.

Footnote 5:

A little over thirty-six pounds.