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«ЖІНОЧИЙ СВІТ» 23 over and suddenly shuddered. The cold dew touched his warm feet and the morning coolness penetrated him. He ran. It became warmer. His small feet carried him to the dam. He stopped. The splashing of the water could be heard more clearly than before. Now he very distinctly heard the. water inviting him to plunge into its cold embrace. “Come” — it said — “I will carry you across to the other side, there, where that divine flower of hap- piness grows. It is so fragrant, it is so radiant such as you never saw before. Come! Do not be afraid!” And he extended his hand and plunged into the water. On the horizon the dawn was breaking. On the golden rim burned a huge, bright circle. From it the water in the lake seemed to burn and glow. Wave after wave became brighter, glistening like the scales on a large fish. The boy walked over these imaginary scales, over the, waves, going further and further. His body was trembling, his heart was pounding and his lips were burning with excitement. He extended his hands in front of him, his eyes gaz- ing there where the sun was shin- ing, beaming, and there he went. Towards him swam a large white bird. It swam slowly like a vessel on the sea, spreading its wings аз if they were sails, piloting itself on the water with its feet. It was a swan, One, then another one, large 4 white with a graceful neck. “Take me white swan and carry me across the water, I shall not overburden you. Look, how small І am!” Thus spoke the boy. But the swan, as if not having heard him, swam closer and stopped; it scruti- nized him, nodded its head, touch- ing with its wing its mate, whisper- ed to her and then a aroud on the рої ae swam aw: ied the Pa “Do not run away; core me with you, take me across !” But the swan would not listen. Faster and faster it sped over the shining wa Se paeeed the boy with tears in his eyes and commenced to follow. ‘The tiny waves were afire and the light breeze swept over them; an odor of resin was wafted from the forest. It was quiet, so quiet that one could hear the poppy seeds being strewn. Only from the shore could be heard the splashing of the hey continously hurled themselves against, and then away from the shore, each time carrying away the lad, further and further. He was submerged in the water, only his head could be seen, now his hands, and at last only his hair floated on the surface. By the bed of the sick child sat the doctor. He listened and listened again, trying to catch with his ear a sound of the beating heart and contracting his eyebrows. The poor mother gazed at him, as if at the face of a prophet. “What is going to happen.” “What is going to happen?” — repeated the doctor. “That which the Lord wills. If his constitution is strong, with the Lord’s aid, he will recover. If not, then he will go in pursuit of happiness, in pursuit of eternal happiness ... And the sick child peel with his roving eyes into the ceiling. He raised himsef on his ailing back, extended his hands forward and whispered with his flaming lips: “T want the flower, the flower of happiness... Let me go. I shall go after it.” Many years passed from that time. To-day no one would re- cognize the small, curly-headed boy. He grew up and changed. He grew into pees and learned the meaning of lif Thanks to the. ‘old professor who taught botany, he studied about all of the flowers on earth and now knows, that far off, beyond the water, there grows no flower of happiness. He knows that.... Yet he plunges into the water in search of it, in search of the flower of happiness Will he obtain it? Who knows? TARAS SHEVCHENKO ry nation has йз literary geniuses. The Engiish have their Shakespeare, the Germans — their Goethe, the Russians—their Push- kin, and we, Ukrainians, have our Shevchenko, His name, however, needs no introduction to our peo} for iia deeply! еабеіовановоми minds and hearts. Yet Shevchenko differs from the © other great poets of the world. He did not have the opportunity to at- tend famous schools and universi- ties to acquire an education and to develop his literary. talents. Only his strong will and perseverance aided him to attain knowledge out- side of schools and to appease his hunger for learning, for his entire life was one of hardships, strug- gles and poverty. For 24 long years Taras was a serf, 10 years he spent in Siberia, in exile, 7 years he enjoyed in free- dom, and the few remaining years of his life were spent under the surveillance of the police, for he was considered a dangerous char- acter by the Russian royalty. He knew little happiness as he was be- ing continually persecuted by his political enemies. The Russian Czar, whom Shevchenko had the audacity to chide for his cruel measures against the Ukrainians, detested him most and punished him accordingly, by exiling him into the distant and frozen land of Siberia. ‘evertheless, Shevchenko did not ve from his purpose. He was determined to sacrifice everything in the service of his country, and this he did, without caring for the consequences to himself. His great poetical talent gave him ample op- portunity to convey his ideas and aims to the great masses of the people. With his fiery words he aroused the timid and weary souls ofthe Ukrainians and inspired them to action. That is the reason that to-day, 73 years after his death, the name of ‘Taras Shevchenko is still sacred to the Ukrainian people. He was our genius, our seer, our apostle, our leader and our warrior, and his memory and accomplishments we must treasure from generation to generation. ata i Ale
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