Feeding the Hungry, P. C. Hiebert, 1929

would hang on beneath, holding themselves to bars and rods. It seemed to make little difference how, just so they could get along. Everybody wanted to get away from the famine districts. But since the area that was in the clutches of famine was so large, one place was about as bad as the other. Rumors would have it that some dis- tance to the north food could be had. As a result every- body wanted to go north. But in the northern villages reports told of food-supplies farther south; so these were as anxious to go south. Both usually were disappointed when they reached their destination, finding their lot worse than at home, since here they were without a home and with no friends or acquaintances. Like a drowning man, who grasps at a straw, when they were told of still an- other district where there was food, immediately they would make efforts to reach the new place, which usually proved to be only a phantom. The result was that they moved from place to place until they could not move any more. When all strength was gone the poor wanderers 232 FEEDING THE HUNGRY remained where they were, till death as an angel of mercy came to relieve them of a life of misery and disappoint- ment. Such wandering refugees could be found everywhere. We shall limit ourselves to the picturing of a few cases that came directly under our observation. The first was the sight of a family group at a station in the Volga region; and the other is the story of a Mennonite family group, the remnant of which we were permitted to rescue by means of American supplies. We were on the way back to Moscow from the Volga region, where we had seen sad sights and heard still more how terrible conditions had been during the cold, foodless winter months, when people were dying by the thousands. In Orenburg they had to be stacked up in large heaps until the cold of the winter had abated sufficiently to permit the digging of graves and the burial of the earthly re- mains of what had been human beings with feelings, and ambitions and emotions, just as the rest of us. Our train had been going for about a day, and we were beginning to look for better conditions, for we were approaching the central part of northern Russia. The train stopped. We learned that the name of the place was “Rosajewka.”’ The weather was ideal, and as we anticipated a longer stay, we opened our window to admit some fresh air and to take a look at the town. I looked out and beheld just before my window, the appari- tion of what had been intended by its Creator to be a lovely young woman. But what was she now? A sight which words can in no wise picture. Her clothes all in tatters hung loosely about her thin body, her prolific growth of blonde hair lay disheveled on her head; the large blue eyes set deep in her head as if they were loathe to behold the condition of their owner, looked up towards us with that tired, weary glance so characteristic of a AMERI