Tarabas

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IN August of the year nineteen-hundred-and-fourteen there lived in New York a young man named Nicholas Tarabas. By nationality he was Russian. He belonged to one of those races, which at that time the great Tsar ruled over, and which are known today as the “western border-nations.”

Tarabas was the son of well-to-do parents. He had studied at the technical college in St. Petersburg. Less actual conviction than the unfocused ardour of his young heart had led him, during his third term as a student, to join a revolutionary society which was shortly afterwards implicated in a bombing outrage against the governor of Kherson. Tarabas and his comrades were brought to trial. Some were convicted, others acquitted. Among the latter was Tarabas. His father turned him out of doors and promised him money if he would agree to emigrate to America. Young Tarabas left his native land as unthinkingly as he had become a revolutionary two years before. He followed his curiosity and the call of the far unknown, carefree and strong, and filled with confidence in a “new life.”

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