ployed their one religious weapon, namely, gentle intelligence and patient firmness; and they say, "One must not obey man rather than God. Therefore, whatever you may do to us, we cannot and will not obey you."
Men praise the heroes of the savage Spanish and American War, who, in their desire to distinguish themselves before the world, and to gain reward and fame, have slain great numbers of men, or have died while engaged in killing their fellow-creatures. But no one speaks, or even knows, about the heroes of the war against war, who—unseen and unheard—have died and are now dying under the rod, in foul prison cells or in painful exile, and who, nevertheless, to the last breath, stand firm by goodness and truth.
I knew tens of these martyrs who have already died, and hundreds more who, scattered all over the world, are still suffering martyrdom for confessing the truth.
I knew Droggin, a peasant-teacher, who was tortured to death in a penal battalion; I knew another, Isyumtcheko (a friend of Droggin), who, after being kept for some time in a penal battalion, was banished to the other end of the world. I knew Olkhovikoff, a peasant who refused military service, and was consequently sent to a penal battalion, and then while on board a steamer which was transporting him into exile, converted Sereda, the soldier who had him in charge. Sereda, on apprehending what Olkhovikoff had said to
