The Desolation of Roslavl
71
for the first time on the whole of your journey from the West up till then.
A gracious little town.
Here everything has some sort of
—A name.
Not only orphanages and trade-schools bear the name of some one, of some local citizen,
But even the trading banks—and such like places,
—Bear some name or other.
A remarkably gracious little town.
Now Roslavl is choked and drowned.
There is neither sugar nor salt in the town.
In the streets fugitives stop you and ask,
—Friend, where can I buy any salt here? I've been trying to get some all day.
—Little father, where can we get any sugar? Even if it's only half a pound or a quarter of a pound.
