my grandchildren--but what nice children they are! No one gives me such a welcome as they do. Aksintka won't go to any one but me. 'Babushka, dear babushka, loveliest.'

And the old woman grew quite sentimental.

"Of course, it is a childish trick. God be with him," said she, pointing to the boy.

The woman was just about to lift the bag up on her shoulder, when the boy ran up, and said :

"Let me carry it, babushka; it is on my way."

The old woman nodded her head, and put the bag on the boy's back.

And side by side they passed along the street.

And the old woman even forgot to ask Avdyeitch to pay for the apple. Avdyeitch stood motionless, and kept gazing after them; and he heard them talking all the time as they walked away. After Avdyeitch saw them disappear, he returned to his room; he found his eye-glasses on the stairs, they were not broken; he picked up his awl, and sat down to work again.

After working a little while, it grew darker, so that he could not see to sew; he saw the lamplighter passing by to light the street-lamps.

"It must be time to make a light," he said to himself; so he got his little lamp ready, hung it up, and betook himself again to his work. He had one boot already finished; he turned it around, looked at it: "Well done." He put away his tools, swept off the cuttings, cleared off the bristles and ends, took the lamp, set it on the table, and took down the Gospels from the shelf. He intended to open the book at the very place where he had yesterday put a piece of leather as a mark, but it happened to open at another place; and the moment Avdyeitch opened the Testament, he recollected his last night's dream. And as soon as he remembered it, it seemed as if he heard some one stepping about behind him. Avdyeitch looked around, and saw there, in the dark corner, it seemed as if people were standing; he was at a loss to know who they were. And a voice whispered

in his ear:

"Martuin -- ah, Martuin! did you not recognize me?" 'Who?" exclaimed Avdyeitch.

"Me," repeated the voice. "It was I;" and Stepa ruitch stepped forth from the dark corner; he smiled, and like a little cloud faded away, and soon vanished. .... "And it was I," said the voice.

From the dark corner stepped forth the woman with her child; the woman smiled, the child laughed, and they also vanished.

"And it was I," continued the voice; both the old woman and the boy with the apple stepped forward; both smiled and vanished.

Avdyeitch's soul rejoiced; he crossed himself, put on his spectacles, and began to read the Evangelists where it happened to open. On the upper part of the page he read:

"For I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in."

And on the lower part of the page he read this:

"Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me" (St. Matthew, chap. xxv.).

And Avdyeitch understood that his dream had not deceived him; that the Saviour really called on nim that day, and that he really received Him.

A CANDLE

"Ye have heard that it hath been said, An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth:

But I say unto you, That ye resist not evil: but whosoever shall smite ther on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also." — MATT. v. 38, 39.

TH

HIS affair took place in the days when there were masters. There used to be all kinds of masters. There were those who remembered God, and that they must die, and took pity on people; and there were dogs, excuse the use of the term. But there was nothing worse than the nachalniks, or stewards, who had risen from serfdom. As it were, out of the mud, they became princes! And they made life worse than anything else.

There happened to be such a prik ishchik, or overseer, on a proprietor's estate. The peasants worked their share for the estate. There was plenty of land, and the land was good, - there was water, and meadows, and woodland. There was enough, and to spare, for master and peasants; but the master made one of his house-serfs from another estate the overseer.

This overseer took the power into his hands, and sat upon the necks of the muzhiks. He himself had a family, a wife, and two married daughters, and he had made money. He might easily have lived without sin; but he was a covetous man, and fell into sin. He began to compel the muzhiks to work on the barin's estate more than their regular allotment. He started a brickyard; he wore out all the peasants, both women and men, and sold the bricks.

The muzhiks went to complain to the proprietor at Moscow, but they had no success. He dismissed the muzhiks without any satisfaction, and did not curb the overseer's power. The prikashchik learned that

the muzhiks had been to complain of him, and he began to vent his spite on them so that they were worse off than before. There happened to be false men among the muzhiks, who used to carry stories about one another. And all the people were in a ferment, and the overseer kept growing worse and worse.

As time went on, the overseer became so bad that the people came to fear him worse than a terrible wild beast. When he passed through the village, all would keep out of his way as from a wolf, hiding wherever they could, so as to keep away from his eyes. The overseer saw it; and the fact that they were afraid of him made him still fiercer. He persecuted the people, both by blows and hard work; and the muzhiks suffered terribly at his hands.

Sometimes such evil-doers were put out of the way, and the muzhiks began to plan this way of escape. They would meet in some retired spot, and the boldest among them would say:

"Must we go on suffering forever from our persecutor? We are lost anyhow to kill such a man is

no sin."

The muzhiks were at one time gathered in the forest; it was before Holy Week. The overseer had sent them out to clear up the proprietor's forest. They gathered at dinner, and began to talk.

"How can we live now?" they said. "He will destroy us root and branch. He tortures us with work; neither we nor the women have any rest day or night any more. The least thing not to his mind, and he finds fault, he lashes us. Semyon died under his whip. Anisim was tortured in the stocks. What else can we expect? He will come here this evening; he will be making trouble again; let's just pull him off from his horse, give him a blow with the ax, and that'll be the end of it. We'll bury him somewhere like a dog, and no one will be any wiser.1 Only one condition: we must all stand together and not give it away."

Thus spoke Vasili Minayef. He was more than all

1 I konlsui f vodu, literally, "the ends in the water."

the rest incensed against the prikashchik, for he had whipped him every week and robbed him of his wife, by taking her as his cook.

Thus talked the muzhiks; in the evening the overseer came; he was on horseback; as soon as he came, he began to find fault with their work. They had not cut the wood in the right way. He discovered a little linden in the pile.

He said, “I did not tell you to cut the lindens. Who cut it down? Confess, or I'll flog you all!"

He began to inquire in whose pile the linden was. They told him it was Sidor's. The prikashchik beat Sidor's face till it bled. Then he lashed Vasili like a Tartar because his pile was small; then he started home. In the evening the muzhiks met again, and Vasili was the spokesman.

"Ekh! What people you are! Not men, but sparrows. 'We'll stand together, we'll stand together!' but when it comes to the point, all rush under the pent-roof. Thus sparrows try to fight a hawk: 'Don't give it away, don't give it away, we'll stand together!' But when he swooped down on us, all scattered in the grass! And so the hawk caught the one he wanted, carried it off. The sparrows hopped out: 'Cheeveek! cheeveek!' There is one missing! Who is gone?' Vanka, eh! 'That's his road, let him go! He deserves it.' The same way with you. If you aren't going to give it away, then don't give it away. When he seized Sidor, you should have clubbed together, and put an end to him. still it is, 'Don't peach, don't peach! we'll stand together!' But when he swooped down, all flew into the bushes!"

But

Thus they spoke more and more often, and at last the muzhiks determined to do away with the prikashchik. On Good Friday the overseer announced to the muzhiks that they must be ready to plow for the barin at Easter, so as to sow the oats. This seemed to the muzhiks an insult; and on Good Friday they gathered at Vasili's, in the back yard, and began to talk again.