ong its course, and three snipe flew up from them with
a loud cry as the chaise drove by.

The travellers got out to rest by the stream and feed the horses.
Kuzmitchov, Father Christopher and Yegorushka sat down on a mat in
the narrow strip of shade cast by the chaise and the unharnessed
horses. The nice pleasant thought that the heat had imprinted in
Father Christopher's brain craved expression after he had had a
drink of water and eaten a hard-boiled egg. He bent a friendly look
upon Yegorushka, munched, and began:

"I studied too, my boy; from the earliest age God instilled into
me good sense and understanding, so that while I was just such a
lad as you I was beyond others, a comfort to my parents and preceptors
by my good sense. Before I was fifteen I could speak and make verses
in Latin, just as in Russian. I was the crosier-bearer to his
Holiness Bishop Christopher. After mass one day, as I remember it
was the patron saint's day of His Majesty Tsar Alexandr Pavlovitch
of blessed memory, he unrobed at the altar, looked kindly at me and
asked, 'Puer bone, quam appelaris?' And I answered, 'Christopherus
sum;' and he said, 'Ergo connominati sumus'--that is, that we
were namesakes. . . Then he asked in Latin, 'Whose son are you?'
To which I answered, also in Latin, that I was the son of deacon
Sireysky of the village of Lebedinskoe. Seeing my readiness and the
clearness of my answers, his Holiness blessed me and said, 'Write
to your father that I will not forget him, and that I will keep you
in view.' The holy priests and fathers who were standing round the
altar, hearing our discussion in Latin, were not a little surprised,
and everyone expressed his pleasure in praise of me. Before I had
moustaches, my boy, I could read Latin, Greek, and French; I knew
philosophy, mathematics, secular history, and all the sciences. The
Lord gave me a marvellous memory. Sometimes, if I read a thing once
or twice, I knew it by heart. My preceptors and patrons were amazed,
and so they expected I should make a learned man, a luminary of the
Church. I did think of going to Kiev to continue my studies, but
my parents did not approve. 'You'll be studying all your life,'
said my father; 'when shall we see you finished?' Hearing such
words, I gave up study and took a post. . . . Of course, I did not
become a learned man, but then I did not disobey my parents; I was
a comfort to them in their old age and gave them a creditable
funeral. Obed