ed into the matter before giving help, on the grounds which I
had stated. So I attacked from another quarter.

"Ought not every person to do as much as possible for himself, and not
call upon others unless compelled to do so?"

"Certainly."

"Very good. I am strong, well, perfectly capable of waiting on myself.
But I detest putting on my heavy Russian galoshes, and my big cloak; and
I never do either when I can possibly avoid it. I have no right to ask
you to put on my galoshes, supposing that there were no lackey at hand.
But suppose I were to ask it?"

"I would do it with pleasure," replied the count, his earnest face
relaxing into a smile. "I will mend your boots, also, if you wish."

I thanked him, with regret that my boots were whole, and pursued my
point. "But you _ought_ to _refuse_. It would be your duty to teach me
my duty of waiting on myself. You would have no right to encourage me in
my evil ways."

We argued the matter on these lines. He started from the conviction that
one should follow the example of Christ, who healed and helped all
without questioning their motives or deserts; I taking the ground that,
while Christ "knew the heart of man," man could not know the heart of
his brother-man,---at least not always on first sight, though
afterward he could make a tolerably shrewd guess as to whether he was
being used as a cat's-paw for the encouragement of the shiftless. But he
stuck firmly to his "resist not evil" doctrine; while I maintained that
the very doctrine admitted that it was "evil" by making use of the word
at all, hence a thing to be preached and practiced against. Perhaps
Count Tolstoy had never been so unfortunate as to meet certain specimens
of the human race which it has been my ill-luck to observe; so we both
still held our positions, after a long skirmish, and silence reigned for
a few moments. Then the count asked, with that winning air of good-will
and interest which is peculiar to him:--

"Have you ever visited a church of the Old Believers?"

"No. They told me that there was one in Petersburg, but that I should
not be admitted because I wore a bonnet instead of a kerchief, and did
not know how to cross myself and bow properly."

"I'll take you, if you like," he said. "We will go as guests of the
priest. He is a friend of mine." Then he told us about it. Many years
ago, a band of Kazaks and their priests migrated across the frontier
into Turkey because they were "Old Believers;