At Me On A Regiment For Linen It

At me on a regiment for linen it is stored, as a relic, the towel weaved by mother from flax grown up on our field and sheathed by self-made laces of its manufacture (it is necessary that successors have not thrown out it as an ordinary-looking rag!). And how many alarms have been endured, when Martin was at war, whence many have not returned or have returned cripples? And later, in 1906 when was imprisoned? After all those years many have hung up in the prisons, many were done some shooting by chasteners. And when Martin acted on rural descents against the heads and waited for "students"? Whether long was again to prison? And then, when soldier Martin and till the late night was not home, how many was alarms. Or it a knife, or it in fight will kill somebody. It was tormented also with jealousy. After all where a walk and vodka, there and villains-women, hunters to another's muzhiks. It comes at night drunk, could not keep silent, reproached: where devils carry you? And in the answer, happened, and a beating.