WHAT MEN LIVE BY AND OTHER TALES

By Leo Tolstoy

 "We know that we have passed out of death into life, because we love the brethren. He that loveth not abideth in death. " --1 "Epistle St. John" iii. 14. 

 "Whoso hath the world's goods, and beholdeth his brother in need, and shutteth up his compassion from him, how doth the love of God abide in him? My little children, let us not love in word, neither with the tongue; but in deed and truth. " --iii. 17-18. 

 "Love is of God; and every one that loveth is begotten of God, and knoweth God. He that loveth not knoweth not God; for God is love. " --iv. 7-8. 

 "No man hath beheld God at any time; if we love one another, God abideth in us. " --iv. 12. 

 "God is love; and he that abideth in love abideth in God, and God abideth in him. " --iv. 16. 

 "If a man say, I love God, and hateth his brother, he is a liar; for he that loveth not his brother whom he hath seen, how can he love God whom he hath not seen?" --iv. 20. 

WHAT MEN LIVE BY

A shoemaker named Simon, who had neither house nor land of his own, lived with his wife and children in a peasant's hut, and earned hisliving by his work. Work was cheap, but bread was dear, and what heearned he spent for food. The man and his wife had but one sheepskincoat between them for winter wear, and even that was torn to tatters, and this was the second year he had been wanting to buy sheep-skins fora new coat. Before winter Simon saved up a little money: a three-roublenote lay hidden in his wife's box, and five roubles and twenty kopekswere owed him by customers in the village. 

So one morning he prepared to go to the village to buy the sheep-skins. He put on over his shirt his wife's wadded nankeen jacket, and over thathe put his own cloth coat. He took the three-rouble note in hispocket, cut himself a stick to serve as a staff, and started off afterbreakfast. "I'll collect the five roubles that are due to me, "thought he, "add the three I have got, and that will be enough to buysheep-skins for the winter coat. "

He came to the village and called at a peasant's hut, but the man wasnot at home. The peasant's wife promised that the money should bepaid next week, but she would not pay it herself. Then Simon called onanother peasant, but this one swore he had no money, and would only paytwenty kopeks which he owed for a pair of boots Simon had mended. Simonthen tried to buy the sheep-skins on credit, but the dealer would nottrust him. 

"Bring your money, " said he, "then you may have your pick of the skins. We know what debt-collecting is like. " So all the business the shoemakerdid was to get the twenty kopeks for boots he had mended, and to take apair of felt boots a peasant gave him to sole with leather. 

Simon felt downhearted. He spent the twenty kopeks on vodka, and startedhomewards without having bought any skins. In the morning he had feltthe frost; but now, after drinking the vodka, he felt warm, even withouta sheep-skin coat. He trudged along, striking his stick on the frozenearth with one hand, swinging the felt boots with the other, and talkingto himself. 

I

"I'm quite warm, " said he, "though I have no sheep-skin coat. I've hada drop, and it runs through all my veins. I need no sheep-skins. I goalong and don't worry about anything. That's the sort of man I am! Whatdo I care? I can live without sheep-skins. I don't need them. My wifewill fret, to be sure. And, true enough, it is a shame; one works allday long, and then does not get paid. Stop a bit! If you don't bringthat money along, sure enough I'll skin you, blessed if I don't. How'sthat? He pays twenty kopeks at a time! What can I do with twenty kopeks?Drink it-that's all one can do! Hard up, he says he is! So he maybe--but what about me? You have a house, and cattle, and everything;I've only what I stand up in! You have corn of your own growing; I haveto buy every grain. Do what I will, I must spend three roubles everyweek for bread alone. I come home and find the bread all used up, and Ihave to fork out another rouble and a half. So just pay up what you owe, and no nonsense about it!"

By this time he had nearly reached the shrine at the bend of the road. Looking up, he saw something whitish behind the shrine. The daylight wasfading, and the shoemaker peered at the thing without being able to makeout what it was. "There was no white stone here before. Can it be an ox?It's not like an ox. It has a head like a man, but it's too white; andwhat could a man be doing there?"

He came closer, so that it was clearly visible. To his surprise itreally was a man, alive or dead, sitting naked, leaning motionlessagainst the shrine. Terror seized the shoemaker, and he thought, "Someone has killed him, stripped him, and left him there. If I meddle Ishall surely get into trouble. "

So the shoemaker went on. He passed in front of the shrine so that hecould not see the man. When he had gone some way, he looked back, andsaw that the man was no longer leaning against the shrine, but wasmoving as if looking towards him. The shoemaker felt more frightenedthan before, and thought, "Shall I go back to him, or shall I go on? IfI go near him something dreadful may happen. Who knows who the fellowis? He has not come here for any good. If I go near him he may jumpup and throttle me, and there will be no getting away. Or if not, he'dstill be a burden on one's hands. What could I do with a naked man? Icouldn't give him my last clothes. Heaven only help me to get away!"

So the shoemaker hurried on, leaving the shrine behind him-when suddenlyhis conscience smote him, and he stopped in the road. 

"What are you doing, Simon?" said he to himself. "The man may be dyingof want, and you slip past afraid. Have you grown so rich as to beafraid of robbers? Ah, Simon, shame on you!"

So he turned back and went up to the man. 

II

Simon approached the stranger, looked at him, and saw that he was ayoung man, fit, with no bruises on his body, only evidently freezing andfrightened, and he sat there leaning back without looking up at Simon, as if too faint to lift his eyes. Simon went close to him, and then theman seemed to wake up. Turning his head, he opened his eyes and lookedinto Simon's face. That one look was enough to make Simon fond of theman. He threw the felt boots on the ground, undid his sash, laid it onthe boots, and took off his cloth coat. 

"It's not a time for talking, " said he. "Come, put this coat on atonce!" And Simon took the man by the elbows and helped him to rise. Ashe stood there, Simon saw that his body was clean and in good condition, his hands and feet shapely, and his face good and kind. He threwhis coat over the man's shoulders, but the latter could not find thesleeves. Simon guided his arms into them, and drawing the coat well on, wrapped it closely about him, tying the sash round the man's waist. 

Simon even took off his torn cap to put it on the man's head, but thenhis own head felt cold, and he thought: "I'm quite bald, while he haslong curly hair. " So he put his cap on his own head again. "It will bebetter to give him something for his feet, " thought he; and he made theman sit down, and helped him to put on the felt boots, saying, "There, friend, now move about and warm yourself. Other matters can be settledlater on. Can you walk?"

The man stood up and looked kindly at Simon, but could not say a word. 

"Why don't you speak?" said Simon. "It's too cold to stay here, we mustbe getting home. There now, take my stick, and if you're feeling weak, lean on that. Now step out!"

The man started walking, and moved easily, not lagging behind. 

As they went along, Simon asked him, "And where do you belong to?" "I'mnot from these parts. "

"I thought as much. I know the folks hereabouts. But, how did you cometo be there by the shrine?"

"I cannot tell. "

"Has some one been ill-treating you?"

"No one has ill-treated me. God has punished me. "

"Of course God rules all. Still, you'll have to find food and sheltersomewhere. Where do you want to go to?"

"It is all the same to me. "

Simon was amazed. The man did not look like a rogue, and he spokegently, but yet he gave no account of himself. Still Simon thought, "Whoknows what may have happened?" And he said to the stranger: "Well then, come home with me, and at least warm yourself awhile. "

So Simon walked towards his home, and the stranger kept up with him, walking at his side. The wind had risen and Simon felt it cold under hisshirt. He was getting over his tipsiness by now, and began to feel thefrost. He went along sniffling and wrapping his wife's coat round him, and he thought to himself: "There now--talk about sheep-skins! I wentout for sheep-skins and come home without even a coat to my back, andwhat is more, I'm bringing a naked man along with me. Matryona won'tbe pleased!" And when he thought of his wife he felt sad; but when helooked at the stranger and remembered how he had looked up at him at theshrine, his heart was glad. 

III

Simon's wife had everything ready early that day. She had cut wood, brought water, fed the children, eaten her own meal, and now she satthinking. She wondered when she ought to make bread: now or tomorrow?There was still a large piece left. 

"If Simon has had some dinner in town, " thought she, "and does not eatmuch for supper, the bread will last out another day. "

She weighed the piece of bread in her hand again and again, and thought:"I won't make any more today. We have only enough flour left to bake onebatch; We can manage to make this last out till Friday. "

So Matryona put away the bread, and sat down at the table to patch herhusband's shirt. While she worked she thought how her husband was buyingskins for a winter coat. 

"If only the dealer does not cheat him. My good man is much too simple;he cheats nobody, but any child can take him in. Eight roubles is a lotof money--he should get a good coat at that price. Not tanned skins, butstill a proper winter coat. How difficult it was last winter to get onwithout a warm coat. I could neither get down to the river, nor go outanywhere. When he went out he put on all we had, and there was nothingleft for me. He did not start very early today, but still it's time hewas back. I only hope he has not gone on the spree!"

Hardly had Matryona thought this, when steps were heard on thethreshold, and some one entered. Matryona stuck her needle into her workand went out into the passage. There she saw two men: Simon, and withhim a man without a hat, and wearing felt boots. 

Matryona noticed at once that her husband smelt of spirits. "Therenow, he has been drinking, " thought she. And when she saw that he wascoatless, had only her jacket on, brought no parcel, stood there silent, and seemed ashamed, her heart was ready to break with disappointment. "He has drunk the money, " thought she, "and has been on the spree withsome good-for-nothing fellow whom he has brought home with him. "

Matryona let them pass into the hut, followed them in, and saw that thestranger was a young, slight man, wearing her husband's coat. Therewas no shirt to be seen under it, and he had no hat. Having entered, hestood, neither moving, nor raising his eyes, and Matryona thought: "Hemust be a bad man--he's afraid. "

Matryona frowned, and stood beside the oven looking to see what theywould do. 

Simon took off his cap and sat down on the bench as if things were allright. 

"Come, Matryona; if supper is ready, let us have some. "

Matryona muttered something to herself and did not move, but stayedwhere she was, by the oven. She looked first at the one and then atthe other of them, and only shook her head. Simon saw that his wife wasannoyed, but tried to pass it off. Pretending not to notice anything, hetook the stranger by the arm. 

"Sit down, friend, " said he, "and let us have some supper. "

The stranger sat down on the bench. 

"Haven't you cooked anything for us?" said Simon. 

Matryona's anger boiled over. "I've cooked, but not for you. It seems tome you have drunk your wits away. You went to buy a sheep-skin coat, but come home without so much as the coat you had on, and bring a nakedvagabond home with you. I have no supper for drunkards like you. "

"That's enough, Matryona. Don't wag your tongue without reason. You hadbetter ask what sort of man--"

"And you tell me what you've done with the money?"

Simon found the pocket of the jacket, drew out the three-rouble note, and unfolded it. 

"Here is the money. Trifonof did not pay, but promises to pay soon. "

Matryona got still more angry; he had bought no sheep-skins, but hadput his only coat on some naked fellow and had even brought him to theirhouse. 

She snatched up the note from the table, took it to put away in safety, and said: "I have no supper for you. We can't feed all the nakeddrunkards in the world. "

"There now, Matryona, hold your tongue a bit. First hear what a man hasto say-"

"Much wisdom I shall hear from a drunken fool. I was right in notwanting to marry you-a drunkard. The linen my mother gave me you drank;and now you've been to buy a coat-and have drunk it, too!"

Simon tried to explain to his wife that he had only spent twenty kopeks;tried to tell how he had found the man--but Matryona would not let himget a word in. She talked nineteen to the dozen, and dragged in thingsthat had happened ten years before. 

Matryona talked and talked, and at last she flew at Simon and seized himby the sleeve. 

"Give me my jacket. It is the only one I have, and you must needs takeit from me and wear it yourself. Give it here, you mangy dog, and maythe devil take you. "

Simon began to pull off the jacket, and turned a sleeve of it insideout; Matryona seized the jacket and it burst its seams, She snatched itup, threw it over her head and went to the door. She meant to go out, but stopped undecided--she wanted to work off her anger, but she alsowanted to learn what sort of a man the stranger was. 

IV

Matryona stopped and said: "If he were a good man he would not be naked. Why, he hasn't even a shirt on him. If he were all right, you would saywhere you came across the fellow. "

"That's just what I am trying to tell you, " said Simon. "As I came tothe shrine I saw him sitting all naked and frozen. It isn't quitethe weather to sit about naked! God sent me to him, or he would haveperished. What was I to do? How do we know what may have happened tohim? So I took him, clothed him, and brought him along. Don't be soangry, Matryona. It is a sin. Remember, we all must die one day. "

Angry words rose to Matryona's lips, but she looked at the strangerand was silent. He sat on the edge of the bench, motionless, his handsfolded on his knees, his head drooping on his breast, his eyes closed, and his brows knit as if in pain. Matryona was silent: and Simon said:"Matryona, have you no love of God?"

Matryona heard these words, and as she looked at the stranger, suddenlyher heart softened towards him. She came back from the door, and goingto the oven she got out the supper. Setting a cup on the table, shepoured out some kvas. Then she brought out the last piece of bread, andset out a knife and spoons. 

"Eat, if you want to, " said she. 

Simon drew the stranger to the table. 

"Take your place, young man, " said he. 

Simon cut the bread, crumbled it into the broth, and they began to eat. Matryona sat at the corner of the table resting her head on her hand andlooking at the stranger. 

And Matryona was touched with pity for the stranger, and began to feelfond of him. And at once the stranger's face lit up; his brows were nolonger bent, he raised his eyes and smiled at Matryona. 

When they had finished supper, the woman cleared away the things andbegan questioning the stranger. "Where are you from?" said she. 

"I am not from these parts. "

"But how did you come to be on the road?"

"I may not tell. "

"Did some one rob you?"

"God punished me. "

"And you were lying there naked?"

"Yes, naked and freezing. Simon saw me and had pity on me. He took offhis coat, put it on me and brought me here. And you have fed me, givenme drink, and shown pity on me. God will reward you!"

Matryona rose, took from the window Simon's old shirt she had beenpatching, and gave it to the stranger. She also brought out a pair oftrousers for him. 

"There, " said she, "I see you have no shirt. Put this on, and lie downwhere you please, in the loft or on the oven. "

The stranger took off the coat, put on the shirt, and lay down in theloft. Matryona put out the candle, took the coat, and climbed to whereher husband lay. 

Matryona drew the skirts of the coat over her and lay down, but couldnot sleep; she could not get the stranger out of her mind. 

When she remembered that he had eaten their last piece of bread and thatthere was none for tomorrow, and thought of the shirt and trousers shehad given away, she felt grieved; but when she remembered how he hadsmiled, her heart was glad. 

Long did Matryona lie awake, and she noticed that Simon also wasawake--he drew the coat towards him. 

"Simon!"

"Well?"

"You have had the last of the bread, and I have not put any to rise. I don't know what we shall do tomorrow. Perhaps I can borrow some ofneighbor Martha. "

"If we're alive we shall find something to eat. "

The woman lay still awhile, and then said, "He seems a good man, but whydoes he not tell us who he is?"

"I suppose he has his reasons. "

"Simon!"

"Well?"

"We give; but why does nobody give us anything?"

Simon did not know what to say; so he only said, "Let us stop talking, "and turned over and went to sleep. 

V

In the morning Simon awoke. The children were still asleep; his wifehad gone to the neighbor's to borrow some bread. The stranger alone wassitting on the bench, dressed in the old shirt and trousers, and lookingupwards. His face was brighter than it had been the day before. 

Simon said to him, "Well, friend; the belly wants bread, and the nakedbody clothes. One has to work for a living What work do you know?"

"I do not know any. "

This surprised Simon, but he said, "Men who want to learn can learnanything. "

"Men work, and I will work also. "

"What is your name?"

"Michael. "

"Well, Michael, if you don't wish to talk about yourself, that is yourown affair; but you'll have to earn a living for yourself. If you willwork as I tell you, I will give you food and shelter. "

"May God reward you! I will learn. Show me what to do. "

Simon took yarn, put it round his thumb and began to twist it. 

"It is easy enough--see!"

Michael watched him, put some yarn round his own thumb in the same way, caught the knack, and twisted the yarn also. 

Then Simon showed him how to wax the thread. This also Michael mastered. Next Simon showed him how to twist the bristle in, and how to sew, andthis, too, Michael learned at once. 

Whatever Simon showed him he understood at once, and after three days heworked as if he had sewn boots all his life. He worked without stopping, and ate little. When work was over he sat silently, looking upwards. He hardly went into the street, spoke only when necessary, and neitherjoked nor laughed. They never saw him smile, except that first eveningwhen Matryona gave them supper. 

VI

Day by day and week by week the year went round. Michael lived andworked with Simon. His fame spread till people said that no one sewedboots so neatly and strongly as Simon's workman, Michael; and from allthe district round people came to Simon for their boots, and he began tobe well off. 

One winter day, as Simon and Michael sat working, a carriage onsledge-runners, with three horses and with bells, drove up to the hut. They looked out of the window; the carriage stopped at their door, afine servant jumped down from the box and opened the door. A gentlemanin a fur coat got out and walked up to Simon's hut. Up jumped Matryonaand opened the door wide. The gentleman stooped to enter the hut, andwhen he drew himself up again his head nearly reached the ceiling, andhe seemed quite to fill his end of the room. 

Simon rose, bowed, and looked at the gentleman with astonishment. He hadnever seen any one like him. Simon himself was lean, Michael was thin, and Matryona was dry as a bone, but this man was like some one fromanother world: red-faced, burly, with a neck like a bull's, and lookingaltogether as if he were cast in iron. 

The gentleman puffed, threw off his fur coat, sat down on the bench, andsaid, "Which of you is the master bootmaker?"

"I am, your Excellency, " said Simon, coming forward. 

Then the gentleman shouted to his lad, "Hey, Fedka, bring the leather!"

The servant ran in, bringing a parcel. The gentleman took the parcel andput it on the table. 

"Untie it, " said he. The lad untied it. 

The gentleman pointed to the leather. 

"Look here, shoemaker, " said he, "do you see this leather?"

"Yes, your honor. "

"But do you know what sort of leather it is?"

Simon felt the leather and said, "It is good leather. "

"Good, indeed! Why, you fool, you never saw such leather before in yourlife. It's German, and cost twenty roubles. "

Simon was frightened, and said, "Where should I ever see leather likethat?"

"Just so! Now, can you make it into boots for me?"

"Yes, your Excellency, I can. "

Then the gentleman shouted at him: "You can, can you? Well, rememberwhom you are to make them for, and what the leather is. You must make meboots that will wear for a year, neither losing shape nor coming unsown. If you can do it, take the leather and cut it up; but if you can't, sayso. I warn you now if your boots become unsewn or lose shape within ayear, I will have you put in prison. If they don't burst or lose shapefor a year I will pay you ten roubles for your work. "

Simon was frightened, and did not know what to say. He glanced atMichael and nudging him with his elbow, whispered: "Shall I take thework?"

Michael nodded his head as if to say, "Yes, take it. "

Simon did as Michael advised, and undertook to make boots that would notlose shape or split for a whole year. 

Calling his servant, the gentleman told him to pull the boot off hisleft leg, which he stretched out. 

"Take my measure!" said he. 

Simon stitched a paper measure seventeen inches long, smoothed it out, knelt down, wiped his hand well on his apron so as not to soil thegentleman's sock, and began to measure. He measured the sole, and roundthe instep, and began to measure the calf of the leg, but the paper wastoo short. The calf of the leg was as thick as a beam. 

"Mind you don't make it too tight in the leg. "

Simon stitched on another strip of paper. The gentleman twitched histoes about in his sock, looking round at those in the hut, and as he didso he noticed Michael. 

"Whom have you there?" asked he. 

"That is my workman. He will sew the boots. "

"Mind, " said the gentleman to Michael, "remember to make them so thatthey will last me a year. "

Simon also looked at Michael, and saw that Michael was not looking atthe gentleman, but was gazing into the corner behind the gentleman, asif he saw some one there. Michael looked and looked, and suddenly hesmiled, and his face became brighter. 

"What are you grinning at, you fool?" thundered the gentleman. "You hadbetter look to it that the boots are ready in time. "

"They shall be ready in good time, " said Michael. 

"Mind it is so, " said the gentleman, and he put on his boots and his furcoat, wrapped the latter round him, and went to the door. But he forgotto stoop, and struck his head against the lintel. 

He swore and rubbed his head. Then he took his seat in the carriage anddrove away. 

When he had gone, Simon said: "There's a figure of a man for you! Youcould not kill him with a mallet. He almost knocked out the lintel, butlittle harm it did him. "

And Matryona said: "Living as he does, how should he not grow strong?Death itself can't touch such a rock as that. "

VII

Then Simon said to Michael: "Well, we have taken the work, but we mustsee we don't get into trouble over it. The leather is dear, and thegentleman hot-tempered. We must make no mistakes. Come, your eye istruer and your hands have become nimbler than mine, so you take thismeasure and cut out the boots. I will finish off the sewing of thevamps. "

Michael did as he was told. He took the leather, spread it out on thetable, folded it in two, took a knife and began to cut out. 

Matryona came and watched him cutting, and was surprised to see howhe was doing it. Matryona was accustomed to seeing boots made, and shelooked and saw that Michael was not cutting the leather for boots, butwas cutting it round. 

She wished to say something, but she thought to herself: "Perhaps I donot understand how gentleman's boots should be made. I suppose Michaelknows more about it--and I won't interfere. "

When Michael had cut up the leather, he took a thread and began to sewnot with two ends, as boots are sewn, but with a single end, as for softslippers. 

Again Matryona wondered, but again she did not interfere. Michael sewedon steadily till noon. Then Simon rose for dinner, looked around, andsaw that Michael had made slippers out of the gentleman's leather. 

"Ah, " groaned Simon, and he thought, "How is it that Michael, who hasbeen with me a whole year and never made a mistake before, should dosuch a dreadful thing? The gentleman ordered high boots, welted, withwhole fronts, and Michael has made soft slippers with single soles, andhas wasted the leather. What am I to say to the gentleman? I can neverreplace leather such as this. "

And he said to Michael, "What are you doing, friend? You have ruined me!You know the gentleman ordered high boots, but see what you have made!"

Hardly had he begun to rebuke Michael, when "rat-tat" went the iron ringthat hung at the door. Some one was knocking. They looked out of thewindow; a man had come on horseback, and was fastening his horse. Theyopened the door, and the servant who had been with the gentleman camein. 

"Good day, " said he. 

"Good day, " replied Simon. "What can we do for you?"

"My mistress has sent me about the boots. "

"What about the boots?"

"Why, my master no longer needs them. He is dead. "

"Is it possible?"

"He did not live to get home after leaving you, but died in thecarriage. When we reached home and the servants came to help him alight, he rolled over like a sack. He was dead already, and so stiff thathe could hardly be got out of the carriage. My mistress sent me here, saying: 'Tell the bootmaker that the gentleman who ordered boots of himand left the leather for them no longer needs the boots, but that hemust quickly make soft slippers for the corpse. Wait till they areready, and bring them back with you. ' That is why I have come. "

Michael gathered up the remnants of the leather; rolled them up, tookthe soft slippers he had made, slapped them together, wiped them downwith his apron, and handed them and the roll of leather to the servant, who took them and said: "Good-bye, masters, and good day to you!"

VIII

Another year passed, and another, and Michael was now living his sixthyear with Simon. He lived as before. He went nowhere, only spoke whennecessary, and had only smiled twice in all those years--once whenMatryona gave him food, and a second time when the gentleman was intheir hut. Simon was more than pleased with his workman. He never nowasked him where he came from, and only feared lest Michael should goaway. 

They were all at home one day. Matryona was putting iron pots in theoven; the children were running along the benches and looking out of thewindow; Simon was sewing at one window, and Michael was fastening on aheel at the other. 

One of the boys ran along the bench to Michael, leant on his shoulder, and looked out of the window. 

"Look, Uncle Michael! There is a lady with little girls! She seems to becoming here. And one of the girls is lame. "

When the boy said that, Michael dropped his work, turned to the window, and looked out into the street. 

Simon was surprised. Michael never used to look out into the street, but now he pressed against the window, staring at something. Simon alsolooked out, and saw that a well-dressed woman was really coming tohis hut, leading by the hand two little girls in fur coats and woolenshawls. The girls could hardly be told one from the other, except thatone of them was crippled in her left leg and walked with a limp. 

The woman stepped into the porch and entered the passage. Feeling aboutfor the entrance she found the latch, which she lifted, and opened thedoor. She let the two girls go in first, and followed them into the hut. 

"Good day, good folk!"

"Pray come in, " said Simon. "What can we do for you?"

The woman sat down by the table. The two little girls pressed close toher knees, afraid of the people in the hut. 

"I want leather shoes made for these two little girls for spring. "

"We can do that. We never have made such small shoes, but we can makethem; either welted or turnover shoes, linen lined. My man, Michael, isa master at the work. "

Simon glanced at Michael and saw that he had left his work and wassitting with his eyes fixed on the little girls. Simon was surprised. It was true the girls were pretty, with black eyes, plump, androsy-cheeked, and they wore nice kerchiefs and fur coats, but stillSimon could not understand why Michael should look at them likethat--just as if he had known them before. He was puzzled, but went ontalking with the woman, and arranging the price. Having fixed it, heprepared the measure. The woman lifted the lame girl on to her lap andsaid: "Take two measures from this little girl. Make one shoe for thelame foot and three for the sound one. They both have the same sizefeet. They are twins. "

Simon took the measure and, speaking of the lame girl, said: "How did ithappen to her? She is such a pretty girl. Was she born so?"

"No, her mother crushed her leg. "

Then Matryona joined in. She wondered who this woman was, and whose thechildren were, so she said: "Are not you their mother then?"

"No, my good woman; I am neither their mother nor any relation to them. They were quite strangers to me, but I adopted them. "

"They are not your children and yet you are so fond of them?"

"How can I help being fond of them? I fed them both at my own breasts. I had a child of my own, but God took him. I was not so fond of him as Inow am of them. "

"Then whose children are they?"

IX

The woman, having begun talking, told them the whole story. 

"It is about six years since their parents died, both in one week: theirfather was buried on the Tuesday, and their mother died on the Friday. These orphans were born three days after their father's death, and theirmother did not live another day. My husband and I were then living aspeasants in the village. We were neighbors of theirs, our yard beingnext to theirs. Their father was a lonely man; a wood-cutter in theforest. When felling trees one day, they let one fall on him. It fellacross his body and crushed his bowels out. They hardly got him homebefore his soul went to God; and that same week his wife gave birth totwins--these little girls. She was poor and alone; she had no one, young or old, with her. Alone she gave them birth, and alone she met herdeath. "

"The next morning I went to see her, but when I entered the hut, she, poor thing, was already stark and cold. In dying she had rolled on tothis child and crushed her leg. The village folk came to the hut, washedthe body, laid her out, made a coffin, and buried her. They were goodfolk. The babies were left alone. What was to be done with them? Iwas the only woman there who had a baby at the time. I was nursing myfirst-born--eight weeks old. So I took them for a time. The peasantscame together, and thought and thought what to do with them; and at lastthey said to me: 'For the present, Mary, you had better keep the girls, and later on we will arrange what to do for them. ' So I nursed the soundone at my breast, but at first I did not feed this crippled one. I didnot suppose she would live. But then I thought to myself, why should thepoor innocent suffer? I pitied her, and began to feed her. And so I fedmy own boy and these two--the three of them--at my own breast. I wasyoung and strong, and had good food, and God gave me so much milk thatat times it even overflowed. I used sometimes to feed two at a time, while the third was waiting. When one had enough I nursed the third. AndGod so ordered it that these grew up, while my own was buried before hewas two years old. And I had no more children, though we prospered. Now my husband is working for the corn merchant at the mill. The payis good, and we are well off. But I have no children of my own, and howlonely I should be without these little girls! How can I help lovingthem! They are the joy of my life!"

She pressed the lame little girl to her with one hand, while with theother she wiped the tears from her cheeks. 

And Matryona sighed, and said: "The proverb is true that says, 'One maylive without father or mother, but one cannot live without God. '"

So they talked together, when suddenly the whole hut was lighted up asthough by summer lightning from the corner where Michael sat. They alllooked towards him and saw him sitting, his hands folded on his knees, gazing upwards and smiling. 

X

The woman went away with the girls. Michael rose from the bench, putdown his work, and took off his apron. Then, bowing low to Simon andhis wife, he said: "Farewell, masters. God has forgiven me. I ask yourforgiveness, too, for anything done amiss. "

And they saw that a light shone from Michael. And Simon rose, bowed downto Michael, and said: "I see, Michael, that you are no common man, and Ican neither keep you nor question you. Only tell me this: how is it thatwhen I found you and brought you home, you were gloomy, and when mywife gave you food you smiled at her and became brighter? Then when thegentleman came to order the boots, you smiled again and became brighterstill? And now, when this woman brought the little girls, you smiled athird time, and have become as bright as day? Tell me, Michael, why doesyour face shine so, and why did you smile those three times?"

And Michael answered: "Light shines from me because I have beenpunished, but now God has pardoned me. And I smiled three times, becauseGod sent me to learn three truths, and I have learnt them. One I learntwhen your wife pitied me, and that is why I smiled the first time. Thesecond I learnt when the rich man ordered the boots, and then I smiledagain. And now, when I saw those little girls, I learn the third andlast truth, and I smiled the third time. "

And Simon said, "Tell me, Michael, what did God punish you for? and whatwere the three truths? that I, too, may know them. "

And Michael answered: "God punished me for disobeying Him. I was anangel in heaven and disobeyed God. God sent me to fetch a woman's soul. I flew to earth, and saw a sick woman lying alone, who had just givenbirth to twin girls. They moved feebly at their mother's side, but shecould not lift them to her breast. When she saw me, she understood thatGod had sent me for her soul, and she wept and said: 'Angel of God! Myhusband has just been buried, killed by a falling tree. I have neithersister, nor aunt, nor mother: no one to care for my orphans. Do not takemy soul! Let me nurse my babes, feed them, and set them on their feetbefore I die. Children cannot live without father or mother. ' And Ihearkened to her. I placed one child at her breast and gave the otherinto her arms, and returned to the Lord in heaven. I flew to the Lord, and said: 'I could not take the soul of the mother. Her husband waskilled by a tree; the woman has twins, and prays that her soul may notbe taken. She says: "Let me nurse and feed my children, and set them ontheir feet. Children cannot live without father or mother. " I have nottaken her soul. ' And God said: 'Go-take the mother's soul, and learnthree truths: Learn What dwells in man, What is not given to man, andWhat men live by. When thou has learnt these things, thou shalt returnto heaven. ' So I flew again to earth and took the mother's soul. Thebabes dropped from her breasts. Her body rolled over on the bed andcrushed one babe, twisting its leg. I rose above the village, wishingto take her soul to God; but a wind seized me, and my wings drooped anddropped off. Her soul rose alone to God, while I fell to earth by theroadside. "

XI

And Simon and Matryona understood who it was that had lived with them, and whom they had clothed and fed. And they wept with awe and with joy. And the angel said: "I was alone in the field, naked. I had never knownhuman needs, cold and hunger, till I became a man. I was famished, frozen, and did not know what to do. I saw, near the field I was in, ashrine built for God, and I went to it hoping to find shelter. Butthe shrine was locked, and I could not enter. So I sat down behind theshrine to shelter myself at least from the wind. Evening drew on. I washungry, frozen, and in pain. Suddenly I heard a man coming along theroad. He carried a pair of boots, and was talking to himself. For thefirst time since I became a man I saw the mortal face of a man, and hisface seemed terrible to me and I turned from it. And I heard the mantalking to himself of how to cover his body from the cold in winter, andhow to feed wife and children. And I thought: 'I am perishing of coldand hunger, and here is a man thinking only of how to clothe himself andhis wife, and how to get bread for themselves. He cannot help me. ' Whenthe man saw me he frowned and became still more terrible, and passed meby on the other side. I despaired; but suddenly I heard him coming back. I looked up, and did not recognize the same man; before, I had seendeath in his face; but now he was alive, and I recognized in him thepresence of God. He came up to me, clothed me, took me with him, andbrought me to his home. I entered the house; a woman came to meet us andbegan to speak. The woman was still more terrible than the man had been;the spirit of death came from her mouth; I could not breathe for thestench of death that spread around her. She wished to drive me out intothe cold, and I knew that if she did so she would die. Suddenly herhusband spoke to her of God, and the woman changed at once. And when shebrought me food and looked at me, I glanced at her and saw that death nolonger dwelt in her; she had become alive, and in her, too, I saw God. 

"Then I remembered the first lesson God had set me: 'Learn what dwellsin man. ' And I understood that in man dwells Love! I was glad that Godhad already begun to show me what He had promised, and I smiled for thefirst time. But I had not yet learnt all. I did not yet know What is notgiven to man, and What men live by. 

"I lived with you, and a year passed. A man came to order boots thatshould wear for a year without losing shape or cracking. I looked athim, and suddenly, behind his shoulder, I saw my comrade--the angel ofdeath. None but me saw that angel; but I knew him, and knew that beforethe sun set he would take that rich man's soul. And I thought to myself, 'The man is making preparations for a year, and does not know that hewill die before evening. ' And I remembered God's second saying, 'Learnwhat is not given to man. '

"What dwells in man I already knew. Now I learnt what is not givenhim. It is not given to man to know his own needs. And I smiled for thesecond time. I was glad to have seen my comrade angel--glad also thatGod had revealed to me the second saying. 

"But I still did not know all. I did not know What men live by. And Ilived on, waiting till God should reveal to me the last lesson. In thesixth year came the girl-twins with the woman; and I recognized thegirls, and heard how they had been kept alive. Having heard the story, I thought, 'Their mother besought me for the children's sake, and Ibelieved her when she said that children cannot live without father ormother; but a stranger has nursed them, and has brought them up. ' Andwhen the woman showed her love for the children that were not her own, and wept over them, I saw in her the living God and understood What menlive by. And I knew that God had revealed to me the last lesson, and hadforgiven my sin. And then I smiled for the third time. "

XII

And the angel's body was bared, and he was clothed in light so that eyecould not look on him; and his voice grew louder, as though it came notfrom him but from heaven above. And the angel said:

"I have learnt that all men live not by care for themselves but by love. 

"It was not given to the mother to know what her children needed fortheir life. Nor was it given to the rich man to know what he himselfneeded. Nor is it given to any man to know whether, when evening comes, he will need boots for his body or slippers for his corpse. 

"I remained alive when I was a man, not by care of myself, but becauselove was present in a passer-by, and because he and his wife pitied andloved me. The orphans remained alive not because of their mother's care, but because there was love in the heart of a woman, a stranger to them, who pitied and loved them. And all men live not by the thought theyspend on their own welfare, but because love exists in man. 

"I knew before that God gave life to men and desires that they shouldlive; now I understood more than that. 

"I understood that God does not wish men to live apart, and therefore hedoes not reveal to them what each one needs for himself; but he wishesthem to live united, and therefore reveals to each of them what isnecessary for all. 

"I have now understood that though it seems to men that they live bycare for themselves, in truth it is love alone by which they live. Hewho has love, is in God, and God is in him, for God is love. "

And the angel sang praise to God, so that the hut trembled at his voice. The roof opened, and a column of fire rose from earth to heaven. Simonand his wife and children fell to the ground. Wings appeared upon theangel's shoulders, and he rose into the heavens. 

And when Simon came to himself the hut stood as before, and there was noone in it but his own family. 

THREE QUESTIONS

It once occurred to a certain king, that if he always knew the righttime to begin everything; if he knew who were the right people to listento, and whom to avoid; and, above all, if he always knew what was themost important thing to do, he would never fail in anything he mightundertake. 

And this thought having occurred to him, he had it proclaimed throughouthis kingdom that he would give a great reward to any one who would teachhim what was the right time for every action, and who were the mostnecessary people, and how he might know what was the most importantthing to do. 

And learned men came to the King, but they all answered his questionsdifferently. 

In reply to the first question, some said that to know the right timefor every action, one must draw up in advance, a table of days, monthsand years, and must live strictly according to it. Only thus, said they, could everything be done at its proper time. Others declared that itwas impossible to decide beforehand the right time for every action;but that, not letting oneself be absorbed in idle pastimes, one shouldalways attend to all that was going on, and then do what was mostneedful. Others, again, said that however attentive the King might be towhat was going on, it was impossible for one man to decide correctly theright time for every action, but that he should have a Council of wisemen, who would help him to fix the proper time for everything. 

But then again others said there were some things which could not waitto be laid before a Council, but about which one had at once to decidewhether to undertake them or not. But in order to decide that, one mustknow beforehand what was going to happen. It is only magicians who knowthat; and, therefore, in order to know the right time for every action, one must consult magicians. 

Equally various were the answers to the second question. Some said, thepeople the King most needed were his councillors; others, the priests;others, the doctors; while some said the warriors were the mostnecessary. 

To the third question, as to what was the most important occupation:some replied that the most important thing in the world was science. Others said it was skill in warfare; and others, again, that it wasreligious worship. 

All the answers being different, the King agreed with none of them, andgave the reward to none. But still wishing to find the right answers tohis questions, he decided to consult a hermit, widely renowned for hiswisdom. 

The hermit lived in a wood which he never quitted, and he received nonebut common folk. So the King put on simple clothes, and before reachingthe hermit's cell dismounted from his horse, and, leaving his body-guardbehind, went on alone. 

When the King approached, the hermit was digging the ground in front ofhis hut. Seeing the King, he greeted him and went on digging. The hermitwas frail and weak, and each time he stuck his spade into the ground andturned a little earth, he breathed heavily. 

The King went up to him and said: "I have come to you, wise hermit, toask you to answer three questions: How can I learn to do the right thingat the right time? Who are the people I most need, and to whom shouldI, therefore, pay more attention than to the rest? And, what affairs arethe most important, and need my first attention?"

The hermit listened to the King, but answered nothing. He just spat onhis hand and recommenced digging. 

"You are tired, " said the King, "let me take the spade and work awhilefor you. "

"Thanks!" said the hermit, and, giving the spade to the King, he satdown on the ground. 

When he had dug two beds, the King stopped and repeated his questions. The hermit again gave no answer, but rose, stretched out his hand forthe spade, and said:

"Now rest awhile-and let me work a bit. "

But the King did not give him the spade, and continued to dig. One hourpassed, and another. The sun began to sink behind the trees, and theKing at last stuck the spade into the ground, and said:

"I came to you, wise man, for an answer to my questions. If you can giveme none, tell me so, and I will return home. "

"Here comes some one running, " said the hermit, "let us see who it is. "

The King turned round, and saw a bearded man come running out of thewood. The man held his hands pressed against his stomach, and blood wasflowing from under them. When he reached the King, he fell fainting onthe ground moaning feebly. The King and the hermit unfastened the man'sclothing. There was a large wound in his stomach. The King washed it asbest he could, and bandaged it with his handkerchief and with a towelthe hermit had. But the blood would not stop flowing, and the King againand again removed the bandage soaked with warm blood, and washed andrebandaged the wound. When at last the blood ceased flowing, the manrevived and asked for something to drink. The King brought fresh waterand gave it to him. Meanwhile the sun had set, and it had become cool. So the King, with the hermit's help, carried the wounded man into thehut and laid him on the bed. Lying on the bed the man closed his eyesand was quiet; but the King was so tired with his walk and with thework he had done, that he crouched down on the threshold, and also fellasleep--so soundly that he slept all through the short summer night. When he awoke in the morning, it was long before he could remember wherehe was, or who was the strange bearded man lying on the bed and gazingintently at him with shining eyes. 

"Forgive me!" said the bearded man in a weak voice, when he saw that theKing was awake and was looking at him. 

"I do not know you, and have nothing to forgive you for, " said the King. 

"You do not know me, but I know you. I am that enemy of yours who sworeto revenge himself on you, because you executed his brother and seizedhis property. I knew you had gone alone to see the hermit, and Iresolved to kill you on your way back. But the day passed and you didnot return. So I came out from my ambush to find you, and I came uponyour bodyguard, and they recognized me, and wounded me. I escaped fromthem, but should have bled to death had you not dressed my wound. Iwished to kill you, and you have saved my life. Now, if I live, and ifyou wish it, I will serve you as your most faithful slave, and will bidmy sons do the same. Forgive me!"

The King was very glad to have made peace with his enemy so easily, andto have gained him for a friend, and he not only forgave him, but saidhe would send his servants and his own physician to attend him, andpromised to restore his property. 

Having taken leave of the wounded man, the King went out into the porchand looked around for the hermit. Before going away he wished once moreto beg an answer to the questions he had put. The hermit was outside, onhis knees, sowing seeds in the beds that had been dug the day before. 

The King approached him, and said:

"For the last time, I pray you to answer my questions, wise man. "

"You have already been answered!" said the hermit, still crouching onhis thin legs, and looking up at the King, who stood before him. 

"How answered? What do you mean?" asked the King. 

"Do you not see, " replied the hermit. "If you had not pitied my weaknessyesterday, and had not dug those beds for me, but had gone your way, that man would have attacked you, and you would have repented of nothaving stayed with me. So the most important time was when you weredigging the beds; and I was the most important man; and to do me goodwas your most important business. Afterwards when that man ran to us, the most important time was when you were attending to him, for if youhad not bound up his wounds he would have died without having made peacewith you. So he was the most important man, and what you did for him wasyour most important business. Remember then: there is only one time thatis important--Now! It is the most important time because it is the onlytime when we have any power. The most necessary man is he with whom youare, for no man knows whether he will ever have dealings with any oneelse: and the most important affair is, to do him good, because for thatpurpose alone was man sent into this life!"

THE COFFEE-HOUSE OF SURAT

(After Bernardin de Saint-Pierre)

In the town of Surat, in India, was a coffee-house where many travellersand foreigners from all parts of the world met and conversed. 

One day a learned Persian theologian visited this coffee-house. He was aman who had spent his life studying the nature of the Deity, and readingand writing books upon the subject. He had thought, read, and written somuch about God, that eventually he lost his wits, became quite confused, and ceased even to believe in the existence of a God. The Shah, hearingof this, had banished him from Persia. 

After having argued all his life about the First Cause, this unfortunatetheologian had ended by quite perplexing himself, and instead ofunderstanding that he had lost his own reason, he began to think thatthere was no higher Reason controlling the universe. 

This man had an African slave who followed him everywhere. When thetheologian entered the coffee-house, the slave remained outside, nearthe door, sitting on a stone in the glare of the sun, and driving awaythe flies that buzzed around him. The Persian having settled down on adivan in the coffee-house, ordered himself a cup of opium. When he haddrunk it and the opium had begun to quicken the workings of his brain, he addressed his slave through the open door:

"Tell me, wretched slave, " said he, "do you think there is a God, ornot?"

"Of course there is, " said the slave, and immediately drew from underhis girdle a small idol of wood. 

"There, " said he, "that is the God who has guarded me from the day of mybirth. Every one in our country worships the fetish tree, from the woodof which this God was made. "

This conversation between the theologian and his slave was listenedto with surprise by the other guests in the coffee-house. They wereastonished at the master's question, and yet more so at the slave'sreply. 

One of them, a Brahmin, on hearing the words spoken by the slave, turnedto him and said:

"Miserable fool! Is it possible you believe that God can be carriedunder a man's girdle? There is one God--Brahma, and he is greater thanthe whole world, for he created it. Brahma is the One, the mighty God, and in His honour are built the temples on the Ganges' banks, where histrue priests, the Brahmins, worship him. They know the true God, andnone but they. A thousand score of years have passed, and yet throughrevolution after revolution these priests have held their sway, becauseBrahma, the one true God, has protected them. "

So spoke the Brahmin, thinking to convince every one; but a Jewishbroker who was present replied to him, and said:

"No! the temple of the true God is not in India. Neither does Godprotect the Brahmin caste. The true God is not the God of the Brahmins, but of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. None does He protect but His chosenpeople, the Israelites. From the commencement of the world, our nationhas been beloved of Him, and ours alone. If we are now scattered overthe whole earth, it is but to try us; for God has promised that He willone day gather His people together in Jerusalem. Then, with the Templeof Jerusalem--the wonder of the ancient world--restored to its splendor, shall Israel be established a ruler over all nations. "

So spoke the Jew, and burst into tears. He wished to say more, but anItalian missionary who was there interrupted him. 

"What you are saying is untrue, " said he to the Jew. "You attributeinjustice to God. He cannot love your nation above the rest. Nay rather, even if it be true that of old He favored the Israelites, it is nownineteen hundred years since they angered Him, and caused Him to destroytheir nation and scatter them over the earth, so that their faith makesno converts and has died out except here and there. God shows preferenceto no nation, but calls all who wish to be saved to the bosom of theCatholic Church of Rome, the one outside whose borders no salvation canbe found. "

So spoke the Italian. But a Protestant minister, who happened to bepresent, growing pale, turned to the Catholic missionary and exclaimed:

"How can you say that salvation belongs to your religion? Those onlywill be saved, who serve God according to the Gospel, in spirit and intruth, as bidden by the word of Christ. "

Then a Turk, an office-holder in the custom-house at Surat, who wassitting in the coffee-house smoking a pipe, turned with an air ofsuperiority to both the Christians. 

"Your belief in your Roman religion is vain, " said he. "It wassuperseded twelve hundred years ago by the true faith: that of Mohammed!You cannot but observe how the true Mohammed faith continues to spreadboth in Europe and Asia, and even in the enlightened country of China. You say yourselves that God has rejected the Jews; and, as a proof, youquote the fact that the Jews are humiliated and their faith does notspread. Confess then the truth of Mohammedanism, for it is triumphantand spreads far and wide. None will be saved but the followers ofMohammed, God's latest prophet; and of them, only the followers of Omar, and not of Ali, for the latter are false to the faith. "

To this the Persian theologian, who was of the sect of Ali, wishedto reply; but by this time a great dispute had arisen among all thestrangers of different faiths and creeds present. There were AbyssinianChristians, Llamas from Thibet, Ismailians and Fireworshippers. They allargued about the nature of God, and how He should be worshipped. Eachof them asserted that in his country alone was the true God known andrightly worshipped. 

Every one argued and shouted, except a Chinaman, a student of Confucius, who sat quietly in one corner of the coffee-house, not joining in thedispute. He sat there drinking tea and listening to what the otherssaid, but did not speak himself. 

The Turk noticed him sitting there, and appealed to him, saying:

"You can confirm what I say, my good Chinaman. You hold your peace, but if you spoke I know you would uphold my opinion. Traders fromyour country, who come to me for assistance, tell me that thoughmany religions have been introduced into China, you Chinese considerMohammedanism the best of all, and adopt it willingly. Confirm, then, mywords, and tell us your opinion of the true God and of His prophet. "

"Yes, yes, " said the rest, turning to the Chinaman, "let us hear whatyou think on the subject. "

The Chinaman, the student of Confucius, closed his eyes, and thought awhile. Then he opened them again, and drawing his hands out of the widesleeves of his garment, and folding them on his breast, he spoke asfollows, in a calm and quiet voice. 

Sirs, it seems to me that it is chiefly pride that prevents men agreeingwith one another on matters of faith. If you care to listen to me, Iwill tell you a story which will explain this by an example. 

I came here from China on an English steamer which had been round theworld. We stopped for fresh water, and landed on the east coast of theisland of Sumatra. It was midday, and some of us, having landed, sat inthe shade of some cocoanut palms by the seashore, not far from a nativevillage. We were a party of men of different nationalities. 

As we sat there, a blind man approached us. We learned afterwards thathe had gone blind from gazing too long and too persistently at the sun, trying to find out what it is, in order to seize its light. 

He strove a long time to accomplish this, constantly looking at the sun;but the only result was that his eyes were injured by its brightness, and he became blind. 

Then he said to himself:

"The light of the sun is not a liquid; for if it were a liquid it wouldbe possible to pour it from one vessel into another, and it would bemoved, like water, by the wind. Neither is it fire; for if it were fire, water would extinguish it. Neither is light a spirit, for it is seenby the eye; nor is it matter, for it cannot be moved. Therefore, as thelight of the sun is neither liquid, nor fire, nor spirit, nor matter, itis--nothing!"

So he argued, and, as a result of always looking at the sun and alwaysthinking about it, he lost both his sight and his reason. And when hewent quite blind, he became fully convinced that the sun did not exist. 

With this blind man came a slave, who after placing his master in theshade of a cocoanut tree, picked up a cocoanut from the ground, andbegan making it into a night-light. He twisted a wick from the fibreof the cocoanut: squeezed oil from the nut in the shell, and soaked thewick in it. 

As the slave sat doing this, the blind man sighed and said to him:

"Well, slave, was I not right when I told you there is no sun? Do younot see how dark it is? Yet people say there is a sun.... But if so, what is it?"

"I do not know what the sun is, " said the slave. "That is no business ofmine. But I know what light is. Here I have made a night-light, by thehelp of which I can serve you and find anything I want in the hut. "

And the slave picked up the cocoanut shell, saying:

"This is my sun. "

A lame man with crutches, who was sitting near by, heard these words, and laughed:

"You have evidently been blind all your life, " said he to the blind man, "not to know what the sun is. I will tell you what it is. The sun isa ball of fire, which rises every morning out of the sea and goes downagain among the mountains of our island each evening. We have all seenthis, and if you had had your eyesight you too would have seen it. "

A fisherman, who had been listening to the conversation said:

"It is plain enough that you have never been beyond your own island. Ifyou were not lame, and if you had been out as I have in a fishing-boat, you would know that the sun does not set among the mountains of ourisland, but as it rises from the ocean every morning so it sets again inthe sea every night. What I am telling you is true, for I see it everyday with my own eyes. "

Then an Indian who was of our party, interrupted him by saying:

"I am astonished that a reasonable man should talk such nonsense. How can a ball of fire possibly descend into the water and not beextinguished? The sun is not a ball of fire at all, it is the Deitynamed Deva, who rides for ever in a chariot round the golden mountain, Meru. Sometimes the evil serpents Ragu and Ketu attack Deva and swallowhim: and then the earth is dark. But our priests pray that the Deity maybe released, and then he is set free. Only such ignorant men as you, whohave never been beyond their own island, can imagine that the sun shinesfor their country alone. "

Then the master of an Egyptian vessel, who was present, spoke in histurn. 

"No, " said he, "you also are wrong. The sun is not a Deity, and does notmove only round India and its golden mountain. I have sailed much on theBlack Sea, and along the coasts of Arabia, and have been to Madagascarand to the Philippines. The sun lights the whole earth, and not Indiaalone. It does not circle round one mountain, but rises far in the East, beyond the Isles of Japan, and sets far, far away in the West, beyondthe islands of England. That is why the Japanese call their country'Nippon, ' that is, 'the birth of the sun. ' I know this well, for I havemyself seen much, and heard more from my grandfather, who sailed to thevery ends of the sea. "

He would have gone on, but an English sailor from our ship interruptedhim. 

"There is no country, " he said "where people know so much about thesun's movements as in England. The sun, as every one in England knows, rises nowhere and sets nowhere. It is always moving round the earth. Wecan be sure of this for we have just been round the world ourselves, and nowhere knocked up against the sun. Wherever we went, the sun showeditself in the morning and hid itself at night, just as it does here. "

And the Englishman took a stick and, drawing circles on the sand, triedto explain how the sun moves in the heavens and goes round the world. But he was unable to explain it clearly, and pointing to the ship'spilot said:

"This man knows more about it than I do. He can explain it properly. "

The pilot, who was an intelligent man, had listened in silence to thetalk till he was asked to speak. Now every one turned to him, and hesaid:

"You are all misleading one another, and are yourselves deceived. Thesun does not go round the earth, but the earth goes round the sun, revolving as it goes, and turning towards the sun in the course of eachtwenty-four hours, not only Japan, and the Philippines, and Sumatrawhere we now are, but Africa, and Europe, and America, and many landsbesides. The sun does not shine for some one mountain, or for some oneisland, or for some one sea, nor even for one earth alone, but for otherplanets as well as our earth. If you would only look up at the heavens, instead of at the ground beneath your own feet, you might all understandthis, and would then no longer suppose that the sun shines for you, orfor your country alone. "

Thus spoke the wise pilot, who had voyaged much about the world, and hadgazed much upon the heavens above. 

"So on matters of faith, " continued the Chinaman, the student ofConfucius, "it is pride that causes error and discord among men. As withthe sun, so it is with God. Each man wants to have a special God of hisown, or at least a special God for his native land. Each nation wishesto confine in its own temples Him, whom the world cannot contain. 

"Can any temple compare with that which God Himself has built to uniteall men in one faith and one religion?

"All human temples are built on the model of this temple, which is God'sown world. Every temple has its fonts, its vaulted roof, its lamps, its pictures or sculptures, its inscriptions, its books of the law, itsofferings, its altars and its priests. But in what temple is there sucha font as the ocean; such a vault as that of the heavens; such lampsas the sun, moon, and stars; or any figures to be compared with living, loving, mutually-helpful men? Where are there any records of God'sgoodness so easy to understand as the blessings which God has strewnabroad for man's happiness? Where is there any book of the law so clearto each man as that written in his heart? What sacrifices equal theself-denials which loving men and women make for one another? And whataltar can be compared with the heart of a good man, on which God Himselfaccepts the sacrifice?

"The higher a man's conception of God, the better will he know Him. Andthe better he knows God, the nearer will he draw to Him, imitating Hisgoodness, His mercy, and His love of man. 

"Therefore, let him who sees the sun's whole light filling the world, refrain from blaming or despising the superstitious man, who in hisown idol sees one ray of that same light. Let him not despise even theunbeliever who is blind and cannot see the sun at all. "

So spoke the Chinaman, the student of Confucius; and all who werepresent in the coffee-house were silent, and disputed no more as towhose faith was the best. 

HOW MUCH LAND DOES A MAN NEED?

I

An elder sister came to visit her younger sister in the country. Theelder was married to a tradesman in town, the younger to a peasant inthe village. As the sisters sat over their tea talking, the elder beganto boast of the advantages of town life: saying how comfortably theylived there, how well they dressed, what fine clothes her children wore, what good things they ate and drank, and how she went to the theatre, promenades, and entertainments. 

The younger sister was piqued, and in turn disparaged the life of atradesman, and stood up for that of a peasant. 

"I would not change my way of life for yours, " said she. "We may liveroughly, but at least we are free from anxiety. You live in better stylethan we do, but though you often earn more than you need, you are verylikely to lose all you have. You know the proverb, 'Loss and gain arebrothers twain. ' It often happens that people who are wealthy one dayare begging their bread the next. Our way is safer. Though a peasant'slife is not a fat one, it is a long one. We shall never grow rich, butwe shall always have enough to eat. "

The elder sister said sneeringly:

"Enough? Yes, if you like to share with the pigs and the calves! What doyou know of elegance or manners! However much your good man may slave, you will die as you are living-on a dung heap-and your children thesame. "

"Well, what of that?" replied the younger. "Of course our work is roughand coarse. But, on the other hand, it is sure; and we need not bow toany one. But you, in your towns, are surrounded by temptations; todayall may be right, but tomorrow the Evil One may tempt your husband withcards, wine, or women, and all will go to ruin. Don't such things happenoften enough?"

Pahom, the master of the house, was lying on the top of the oven, and helistened to the women's chatter. 

"It is perfectly true, " thought he. "Busy as we are from childhoodtilling Mother Earth, we peasants have no time to let any nonsensesettle in our heads. Our only trouble is that we haven't land enough. IfI had plenty of land, I shouldn't fear the Devil himself!"

The women finished their tea, chatted a while about dress, and thencleared away the tea-things and lay down to sleep. 

But the Devil had been sitting behind the oven, and had heard all thatwas said. He was pleased that the peasant's wife had led her husbandinto boasting, and that he had said that if he had plenty of land hewould not fear the Devil himself. 

"All right, " thought the Devil. "We will have a tussle. I'll give youland enough; and by means of that land I will get you into my power. "

II

Close to the village there lived a lady, a small landowner, who had anestate of about three hundred acres. She had always lived on good termswith the peasants, until she engaged as her steward an old soldier, whotook to burdening the people with fines. However careful Pahom tried tobe, it happened again and again that now a horse of his got among thelady's oats, now a cow strayed into her garden, now his calves foundtheir way into her meadows-and he always had to pay a fine. 

Pahom paid, but grumbled, and, going home in a temper, was rough withhis family. All through that summer Pahom had much trouble because ofthis steward; and he was even glad when winter came and the cattle hadto be stabled. Though he grudged the fodder when they could no longergraze on the pasture-land, at least he was free from anxiety about them. 

In the winter the news got about that the lady was going to sell herland, and that the keeper of the inn on the high road was bargaining forit. When the peasants heard this they were very much alarmed. 

"Well, " thought they, "if the innkeeper gets the land he will worry uswith fines worse than the lady's steward. We all depend on that estate. "

So the peasants went on behalf of their Commune, and asked the lady notto sell the land to the innkeeper; offering her a better price for itthemselves. The lady agreed to let them have it. Then the peasants triedto arrange for the Commune to buy the whole estate, so that it mightbe held by all in common. They met twice to discuss it, but could notsettle the matter; the Evil One sowed discord among them, and they couldnot agree. So they decided to buy the land individually, each accordingto his means; and the lady agreed to this plan as she had to the other. 

Presently Pahom heard that a neighbor of his was buying fifty acres, and that the lady had consented to accept one half in cash and to wait ayear for the other half. Pahom felt envious. 

"Look at that, " thought he, "the land is all being sold, and I shall getnone of it. " So he spoke to his wife. 

"Other people are buying, " said he, "and we must also buy twenty acresor so. Life is becoming impossible. That steward is simply crushing uswith his fines. "

So they put their heads together and considered how they could manage tobuy it. They had one hundred roubles laid by. They sold a colt, and onehalf of their bees; hired out one of their sons as a laborer, and tookhis wages in advance; borrowed the rest from a brother-in-law, and soscraped together half the purchase money. 

Having done this, Pahom chose out a farm of forty acres, some ofit wooded, and went to the lady to bargain for it. They came to anagreement, and he shook hands with her upon it, and paid her a depositin advance. Then they went to town and signed the deeds; he paying halfthe price down, and undertaking to pay the remainder within two years. 

So now Pahom had land of his own. He borrowed seed, and sowed it on theland he had bought. The harvest was a good one, and within a year he hadmanaged to pay off his debts both to the lady and to his brother-in-law. So he became a landowner, ploughing and sowing his own land, making hayon his own land, cutting his own trees, and feeding his cattle on hisown pasture. When he went out to plough his fields, or to look at hisgrowing corn, or at his grass meadows, his heart would fill with joy. The grass that grew and the flowers that bloomed there, seemed to himunlike any that grew elsewhere. Formerly, when he had passed by thatland, it had appeared the same as any other land, but now it seemedquite different. 

III

So Pahom was well contented, and everything would have been right if theneighboring peasants would only not have trespassed on his corn-fieldsand meadows. He appealed to them most civilly, but they still went on:now the Communal herdsmen would let the village cows stray into hismeadows; then horses from the night pasture would get among his corn. Pahom turned them out again and again, and forgave their owners, andfor a long time he forbore from prosecuting any one. But at last helost patience and complained to the District Court. He knew it was thepeasants' want of land, and no evil intent on their part, that causedthe trouble; but he thought:

"I cannot go on overlooking it, or they will destroy all I have. Theymust be taught a lesson. "

So he had them up, gave them one lesson, and then another, and two orthree of the peasants were fined. After a time Pahom's neighbours beganto bear him a grudge for this, and would now and then let their cattleon his land on purpose. One peasant even got into Pahom's wood at nightand cut down five young lime trees for their bark. Pahom passing throughthe wood one day noticed something white. He came nearer, and saw thestripped trunks lying on the ground, and close by stood the stumps, where the tree had been. Pahom was furious. 

"If he had only cut one here and there it would have been bad enough, "thought Pahom, "but the rascal has actually cut down a whole clump. If Icould only find out who did this, I would pay him out. "

He racked his brains as to who it could be. Finally he decided: "Itmust be Simon-no one else could have done it. " Se he went to Simon'shomestead to have a look around, but he found nothing, and only had anangry scene. However' he now felt more certain than ever that Simon haddone it, and he lodged a complaint. Simon was summoned. The case wastried, and re-tried, and at the end of it all Simon was acquitted, therebeing no evidence against him. Pahom felt still more aggrieved, and lethis anger loose upon the Elder and the Judges. 

"You let thieves grease your palms, " said he. "If you were honest folkyourselves, you would not let a thief go free. "

So Pahom quarrelled with the Judges and with his neighbors. Threats toburn his building began to be uttered. So though Pahom had more land, his place in the Commune was much worse than before. 

About this time a rumor got about that many people were moving to newparts. 

"There's no need for me to leave my land, " thought Pahom. "But some ofthe others might leave our village, and then there would be more roomfor us. I would take over their land myself, and make my estate a bitbigger. I could then live more at ease. As it is, I am still too crampedto be comfortable. "

One day Pahom was sitting at home, when a peasant passing through thevillage, happened to call in. He was allowed to stay the night, andsupper was given him. Pahom had a talk with this peasant and asked himwhere he came from. The stranger answered that he came from beyond theVolga, where he had been working. One word led to another, and the manwent on to say that many people were settling in those parts. He toldhow some people from his village had settled there. They had joined theCommune, and had had twenty-five acres per man granted them. The landwas so good, he said, that the rye sown on it grew as high as a horse, and so thick that five cuts of a sickle made a sheaf. One peasant, hesaid, had brought nothing with him but his bare hands, and now he hadsix horses and two cows of his own. 

Pahom's heart kindled with desire. He thought:

"Why should I suffer in this narrow hole, if one can live so wellelsewhere? I will sell my land and my homestead here, and with the moneyI will start afresh over there and get everything new. In this crowdedplace one is always having trouble. But I must first go and find out allabout it myself. "

Towards summer he got ready and started. He went down the Volga on asteamer to Samara, then walked another three hundred miles on foot, andat last reached the place. It was just as the stranger had said. Thepeasants had plenty of land: every man had twenty-five acres of Communalland given him for his use, and any one who had money could buy, besides, at fifty-cents an acre as much good freehold land as he wanted. 

Having found out all he wished to know, Pahom returned home as autumncame on, and began selling off his belongings. He sold his land ata profit, sold his homestead and all his cattle, and withdrew frommembership of the Commune. He only waited till the spring, and thenstarted with his family for the new settlement. 

IV

As soon as Pahom and his family arrived at their new abode, he appliedfor admission into the Commune of a large village. He stood treat to theElders, and obtained the necessary documents. Five shares of Communalland were given him for his own and his sons' use: that is to say--125acres (not altogether, but in different fields) besides the use ofthe Communal pasture. Pahom put up the buildings he needed, and boughtcattle. Of the Communal land alone he had three times as much as at hisformer home, and the land was good corn-land. He was ten times betteroff than he had been. He had plenty of arable land and pasturage, andcould keep as many head of cattle as he liked. 

At first, in the bustle of building and settling down, Pahom was pleasedwith it all, but when he got used to it he began to think that even herehe had not enough land. The first year, he sowed wheat on his share ofthe Communal land, and had a good crop. He wanted to go on sowingwheat, but had not enough Communal land for the purpose, and what he hadalready used was not available; for in those parts wheat is only sown onvirgin soil or on fallow land. It is sown for one or two years, andthen the land lies fallow till it is again overgrown with prairie grass. There were many who wanted such land, and there was not enough for all;so that people quarrelled about it. Those who were better off, wanted itfor growing wheat, and those who were poor, wanted it to let to dealers, so that they might raise money to pay their taxes. Pahom wanted to sowmore wheat; so he rented land from a dealer for a year. He sowedmuch wheat and had a fine crop, but the land was too far from thevillage--the wheat had to be carted more than ten miles. After a timePahom noticed that some peasant-dealers were living on separate farms, and were growing wealthy; and he thought:

"If I were to buy some freehold land, and have a homestead on it, itwould be a different thing, altogether. Then it would all be nice andcompact. "

The question of buying freehold land recurred to him again and again. 

He went on in the same way for three years; renting land and sowingwheat. The seasons turned out well and the crops were good, so that hebegan to lay money by. He might have gone on living contentedly, but hegrew tired of having to rent other people's land every year, and havingto scramble for it. Wherever there was good land to be had, the peasantswould rush for it and it was taken up at once, so that unless you weresharp about it you got none. It happened in the third year that he anda dealer together rented a piece of pasture land from some peasants; andthey had already ploughed it up, when there was some dispute, and thepeasants went to law about it, and things fell out so that the laborwas all lost. "If it were my own land, " thought Pahom, "I should beindependent, and there would not be all this unpleasantness. "

So Pahom began looking out for land which he could buy; and he cameacross a peasant who had bought thirteen hundred acres, but having gotinto difficulties was willing to sell again cheap. Pahom bargained andhaggled with him, and at last they settled the price at 1, 500 roubles, part in cash and part to be paid later. They had all but clinched thematter, when a passing dealer happened to stop at Pahom's one day to geta feed for his horse. He drank tea with Pahom, and they had a talk. Thedealer said that he was just returning from the land of the Bashkirs, far away, where he had bought thirteen thousand acres of land all for1, 000 roubles. Pahom questioned him further, and the tradesman said:

"All one need do is to make friends with the chiefs. I gave away aboutone hundred roubles' worth of dressing-gowns and carpets, besides a caseof tea, and I gave wine to those who would drink it; and I got the landfor less than two cents an acre. And he showed Pahom the title-deeds, saying:

"The land lies near a river, and the whole prairie is virgin soil. "

Pahom plied him with questions, and the tradesman said:

"There is more land there than you could cover if you walked a year, andit all belongs to the Bashkirs. They are as simple as sheep, and landcan be got almost for nothing. "

"There now, " thought Pahom, "with my one thousand roubles, why should Iget only thirteen hundred acres, and saddle myself with a debt besides. If I take it out there, I can get more than ten times as much for themoney. "

V

Pahom inquired how to get to the place, and as soon as the tradesmanhad left him, he prepared to go there himself. He left his wife to lookafter the homestead, and started on his journey taking his man withhim. They stopped at a town on their way, and bought a case of tea, somewine, and other presents, as the tradesman had advised. On and on theywent until they had gone more than three hundred miles, and on theseventh day they came to a place where the Bashkirs had pitched theirtents. It was all just as the tradesman had said. The people lived onthe steppes, by a river, in felt-covered tents. They neither tilled theground, nor ate bread. Their cattle and horses grazed in herds on thesteppe. The colts were tethered behind the tents, and the mares weredriven to them twice a day. The mares were milked, and from the milkkumiss was made. It was the women who prepared kumiss, and they alsomade cheese. As far as the men were concerned, drinking kumiss and tea, eating mutton, and playing on their pipes, was all they cared about. They were all stout and merry, and all the summer long they neverthought of doing any work. They were quite ignorant, and knew noRussian, but were good-natured enough. 

As soon as they saw Pahom, they came out of their tents and gatheredround their visitor. An interpreter was found, and Pahom told them hehad come about some land. The Bashkirs seemed very glad; they took Pahomand led him into one of the best tents, where they made him sit on somedown cushions placed on a carpet, while they sat round him. They gavehim tea and kumiss, and had a sheep killed, and gave him mutton toeat. Pahom took presents out of his cart and distributed them among theBashkirs, and divided amongst them the tea. The Bashkirs were delighted. They talked a great deal among themselves, and then told the interpreterto translate. 

"They wish to tell you, " said the interpreter, "that they like you, andthat it is our custom to do all we can to please a guest and to repayhim for his gifts. You have given us presents, now tell us which of thethings we possess please you best, that we may present them to you. "

"What pleases me best here, " answered Pahom, "is your land. Our land iscrowded, and the soil is exhausted; but you have plenty of land and itis good land. I never saw the like of it. "

The interpreter translated. The Bashkirs talked among themselves for awhile. Pahom could not understand what they were saying, but saw thatthey were much amused, and that they shouted and laughed. Then they weresilent and looked at Pahom while the interpreter said:

"They wish me to tell you that in return for your presents they willgladly give you as much land as you want. You have only to point it outwith your hand and it is yours. "

The Bashkirs talked again for a while and began to dispute. Pahom askedwhat they were disputing about, and the interpreter told him that someof them thought they ought to ask their Chief about the land and not actin his absence, while others thought there was no need to wait for hisreturn. 

VI

While the Bashkirs were disputing, a man in a large fox-fur cap appearedon the scene. They all became silent and rose to their feet. Theinterpreter said, "This is our Chief himself. "

Pahom immediately fetched the best dressing-gown and five pounds oftea, and offered these to the Chief. The Chief accepted them, and seatedhimself in the place of honour. The Bashkirs at once began telling himsomething. The Chief listened for a while, then made a sign with hishead for them to be silent, and addressing himself to Pahom, said inRussian:

"Well, let it be so. Choose whatever piece of land you like; we haveplenty of it. "

"How can I take as much as I like?" thought Pahom. "I must get a deed tomake it secure, or else they may say, 'It is yours, ' and afterwards maytake it away again. "

"Thank you for your kind words, " he said aloud. "You have much land, andI only want a little. But I should like to be sure which bit is mine. Could it not be measured and made over to me? Life and death are inGod's hands. You good people give it to me, but your children might wishto take it away again. "

"You are quite right, " said the Chief. "We will make it over to you. "

"I heard that a dealer had been here, " continued Pahom, "and that yougave him a little land, too, and signed title-deeds to that effect. Ishould like to have it done in the same way. "

The Chief understood. 

"Yes, " replied he, "that can be done quite easily. We have a scribe, andwe will go to town with you and have the deed properly sealed. "

"And what will be the price?" asked Pahom. 

"Our price is always the same: one thousand roubles a day. "

Pahom did not understand. 

"A day? What measure is that? How many acres would that be?"

"We do not know how to reckon it out, " said the Chief. "We sell it bythe day. As much as you can go round on your feet in a day is yours, andthe price is one thousand roubles a day. "

Pahom was surprised. 

"But in a day you can get round a large tract of land, " he said. 

The Chief laughed. 

"It will all be yours!" said he. "But there is one condition: If youdon't return on the same day to the spot whence you started, your moneyis lost. "

"But how am I to mark the way that I have gone?"

"Why, we shall go to any spot you like, and stay there. You must startfrom that spot and make your round, taking a spade with you. Whereveryou think necessary, make a mark. At every turning, dig a hole and pileup the turf; then afterwards we will go round with a plough from hole tohole. You may make as large a circuit as you please, but before the sunsets you must return to the place you started from. All the land youcover will be yours. "

Pahom was delighted. It-was decided to start early next morning. Theytalked a while, and after drinking some more kumiss and eating some moremutton, they had tea again, and then the night came on. They gave Pahoma feather-bed to sleep on, and the Bashkirs dispersed for the night, promising to assemble the next morning at daybreak and ride out beforesunrise to the appointed spot. 

VII

Pahom lay on the feather-bed, but could not sleep. He kept thinkingabout the land. 

"What a large tract I will mark off!" thought he. "I can easily gothirty-five miles in a day. The days are long now, and within a circuitof thirty-five miles what a lot of land there will be! I will sell thepoorer land, or let it to peasants, but I'll pick out the best and farmit. I will buy two ox-teams, and hire two more laborers. About a hundredand fifty acres shall be plough-land, and I will pasture cattle on therest. "

Pahom lay awake all night, and dozed off only just before dawn. Hardlywere his eyes closed when he had a dream. He thought he was lying inthat same tent, and heard somebody chuckling outside. He wondered who itcould be, and rose and went out, and he saw the Bashkir Chief sittingin front of the tent holding his side and rolling about with laughter. Going nearer to the Chief, Pahom asked: "What are you laughing at?" Buthe saw that it was no longer the Chief, but the dealer who had recentlystopped at his house and had told him about the land. Just as Pahomwas going to ask, "Have you been here long?" he saw that it was not thedealer, but the peasant who had come up from the Volga, long ago, toPahom's old home. Then he saw that it was not the peasant either, butthe Devil himself with hoofs and horns, sitting there and chuckling, and before him lay a man barefoot, prostrate on the ground, withonly trousers and a shirt on. And Pahom dreamt that he looked moreattentively to see what sort of a man it was lying there, and he sawthat the man was dead, and that it was himself! He awoke horror-struck. 

"What things one does dream, " thought he. 

Looking round he saw through the open door that the dawn was breaking. 

"It's time to wake them up, " thought he. "We ought to be starting. "

He got up, roused his man (who was sleeping in his cart), bade himharness; and went to call the Bashkirs. 

"It's time to go to the steppe to measure the land, " he said. 

The Bashkirs rose and assembled, and the Chief came, too. Then theybegan drinking kumiss again, and offered Pahom some tea, but he wouldnot wait. 

"If we are to go, let us go. It is high time, " said he. 

VIII

The Bashkirs got ready and they all started: some mounted on horses, andsome in carts. Pahom drove in his own small cart with his servant, andtook a spade with him. When they reached the steppe, the morning red wasbeginning to kindle. They ascended a hillock (called by the Bashkirs ashikhan) and dismounting from their carts and their horses, gathered inone spot. The Chief came up to Pahom and stretched out his arm towardsthe plain:

"See, " said he, "all this, as far as your eye can reach, is ours. Youmay have any part of it you like. "

Pahom's eyes glistened: it was all virgin soil, as flat as the palm ofyour hand, as black as the seed of a poppy, and in the hollows differentkinds of grasses grew breast high. 

The Chief took off his fox-fur cap, placed it on the ground and said:

"This will be the mark. Start from here, and return here again. All theland you go round shall be yours. "

Pahom took out his money and put it on the cap. Then he took off hisouter coat, remaining in his sleeveless under coat. He unfastened hisgirdle and tied it tight below his stomach, put a little bag of breadinto the breast of his coat, and tying a flask of water to his girdle, he drew up the tops of his boots, took the spade from his man, and stoodready to start. He considered for some moments which way he had bettergo--it was tempting everywhere. 

"No matter, " he concluded, "I will go towards the rising sun. "

He turned his face to the east, stretched himself, and waited for thesun to appear above the rim. 

"I must lose no time, " he thought, "and it is easier walking while it isstill cool. "

The sun's rays had hardly flashed above the horizon, before Pahom, carrying the spade over his shoulder, went down into the steppe. 

Pahom started walking neither slowly nor quickly. After having gone athousand yards he stopped, dug a hole and placed pieces of turf one onanother to make it more visible. Then he went on; and now that he hadwalked off his stiffness he quickened his pace. After a while he duganother hole. 

Pahom looked back. The hillock could be distinctly seen in the sunlight, with the people on it, and the glittering tires of the cartwheels. Ata rough guess Pahom concluded that he had walked three miles. Itwas growing warmer; he took off his under-coat, flung it across hisshoulder, and went on again. It had grown quite warm now; he looked atthe sun, it was time to think of breakfast. 

"The first shift is done, but there are four in a day, and it istoo soon yet to turn. But I will just take off my boots, " said he tohimself. 

He sat down, took off his boots, stuck them into his girdle, and wenton. It was easy walking now. 

"I will go on for another three miles, " thought he, "and then turn tothe left. The spot is so fine, that it would be a pity to lose it. Thefurther one goes, the better the land seems. "

He went straight on a for a while, and when he looked round, the hillockwas scarcely visible and the people on it looked like black ants, and hecould just see something glistening there in the sun. 

"Ah, " thought Pahom, "I have gone far enough in this direction, it istime to turn. Besides I am in a regular sweat, and very thirsty. "

He stopped, dug a large hole, and heaped up pieces of turf. Next heuntied his flask, had a drink, and then turned sharply to the left. Hewent on and on; the grass was high, and it was very hot. 

Pahom began to grow tired: he looked at the sun and saw that it wasnoon. 

"Well, " he thought, "I must have a rest. "

He sat down, and ate some bread and drank some water; but he did notlie down, thinking that if he did he might fall asleep. After sitting alittle while, he went on again. At first he walked easily: the food hadstrengthened him; but it had become terribly hot, and he felt sleepy;still he went on, thinking: "An hour to suffer, a life-time to live. "

He went a long way in this direction also, and was about to turn tothe left again, when he perceived a damp hollow: "It would be a pity toleave that out, " he thought. "Flax would do well there. " So he went onpast the hollow, and dug a hole on the other side of it before he turnedthe corner. Pahom looked towards the hillock. The heat made the airhazy: it seemed to be quivering, and through the haze the people on thehillock could scarcely be seen. 

"Ah!" thought Pahom, "I have made the sides too long; I must make thisone shorter. " And he went along the third side, stepping faster. Helooked at the sun: it was nearly half way to the horizon, and he hadnot yet done two miles of the third side of the square. He was still tenmiles from the goal. 

"No, " he thought, "though it will make my land lopsided, I must hurryback in a straight line now. I might go too far, and as it is I have agreat deal of land. "

So Pahom hurriedly dug a hole, and turned straight towards the hillock. 

IX

Pahom went straight towards the hillock, but he now walked withdifficulty. He was done up with the heat, his bare feet were cut andbruised, and his legs began to fail. He longed to rest, but it wasimpossible if he meant to get back before sunset. The sun waits for noman, and it was sinking lower and lower. 

"Oh dear, " he thought, "if only I have not blundered trying for toomuch! What if I am too late?"

He looked towards the hillock and at the sun. He was still far from hisgoal, and the sun was already near the rim. Pahom walked on and on; itwas very hard walking, but he went quicker and quicker. He pressed on, but was still far from the place. He began running, threw away his coat, his boots, his flask, and his cap, and kept only the spade which he usedas a support. 

"What shall I do, " he thought again, "I have grasped too much, andruined the whole affair. I can't get there before the sun sets. "

And this fear made him still more breathless. Pahom went on running, hissoaking shirt and trousers stuck to him, and his mouth was parched. Hisbreast was working like a blacksmith's bellows, his heart was beatinglike a hammer, and his legs were giving way as if they did not belong tohim. Pahom was seized with terror lest he should die of the strain. 

Though afraid of death, he could not stop. "After having run all thatway they will call me a fool if I stop now, " thought he. And he ran onand on, and drew near and heard the Bashkirs yelling and shouting tohim, and their cries inflamed his heart still more. He gathered his laststrength and ran on. 

The sun was close to the rim, and cloaked in mist looked large, and redas blood. Now, yes now, it was about to set! The sun was quite low, buthe was also quite near his aim. Pahom could already see the people onthe hillock waving their arms to hurry him up. He could see the fox-furcap on the ground, and the money on it, and the Chief sitting on theground holding his sides. And Pahom remembered his dream. 

"There is plenty of land, " thought he, "but will God let me live onit? I have lost my life, I have lost my life! I shall never reach thatspot!"

Pahom looked at the sun, which had reached the earth: one side of ithad already disappeared. With all his remaining strength he rushedon, bending his body forward so that his legs could hardly follow fastenough to keep him from falling. Just as he reached the hillock itsuddenly grew dark. He looked up--the sun had already set. He gave acry: "All my labor has been in vain, " thought he, and was about to stop, but he heard the Bashkirs still shouting, and remembered that though tohim, from below, the sun seemed to have set, they on the hillock couldstill see it. He took a long breath and ran up the hillock. It was stilllight there. He reached the top and saw the cap. Before it sat the Chieflaughing and holding his sides. Again Pahom remembered his dream, andhe uttered a cry: his legs gave way beneath him, he fell forward andreached the cap with his hands. 

"Ah, what a fine fellow!" exclaimed the Chief. "He has gained muchland!"

Pahom's servant came running up and tried to raise him, but he saw thatblood was flowing from his mouth. Pahom was dead!

The Bashkirs clicked their tongues to show their pity. 

His servant picked up the spade and dug a grave long enough for Pahomto lie in, and buried him in it. Six feet from his head to his heels wasall he needed. 

Notes:

1. One hundred kopeks make a rouble. The kopek is worth about half acent. 

2. A non-intoxicating drink usually made from rye-malt and rye-flour. 

3. The brick oven in a Russian peasant's hut is usually built so as toleave a flat top, large enough to lie on, for those who want to sleep ina warm place. 

4. 120 "desyatins. " The "desyatina" is properly 2. 7 acres; but in thisstory round numbers are used. 

5. Three roubles per "desyatina. "

6. Five "kopeks" for a "desyatina. "