es, and all agricultural implements are
coming into use here. Every year some Americans settle in Russia from
business interests, and we are rapidly becoming dependent on you for our
coal. If you had a larger merchant marine, it would benefit our mutual
interests wonderfully. Is your country as much interested in Russia as
we are in you?"

"Equally so," I said. "Russian literature is very well understood in
America. We read all your books. We know Pushkin and Tourguenieff. Your
Russian music is played by our orchestras, and your Russian painter,
Verestchagin, exhibited his paintings in all the large cities, and made
us familiar with his genius."

"All art, all music has a moral effect upon the soul. Verestchagin
paints war--hideous war! Moral questions should be talked about and
discussed, and a remedy found for them. In America you will not discuss
many questions. Even in the translations of my books, parts which seem
important to me are left out. Why is that? It limits you, does it not?"

"I suppose the demand creates the supply," I ventured. "We may be
prudish, but as yet the moral questions you speak of have not such a
hold on our young republic that they need drastic measures. When we
become more civilised, and society more cancerous, doubtless the public
mind will permit these questions to be discussed."

"The time for repentance is in advance of the crime," said Tolstoy.

"American prudery is narrowing in its effect on our art," I ventured,
timidly.

"Is that the reason for many of your artists and authors living abroad?"

"It may be. We certainly are not encouraged in America to depict life as
it is. That is one reason I think why foreign authors sell their books
by the thousands in America, and by the hundreds in their own country."

"Then the taste is there, is it?" asked Tolstoy.

"The common sense is there," I said, bluntly,--"the common sense to know
that our authors are limited to depicting a phase instead of the whole
life, and then, if you are going to get the whole life, you must read
foreign authors. It's just as if a sculptor should confine himself to
shaping fingers, and toes, and noses, and ears because the public
refuses to take a finished study."

"But why, why is it?" said Tolstoy, with a touch of impatience. "If you
will read the whole thing when written by foreign authors, why do you
not encourage your own?"

"I am sure I don't know," I said, "unless it is on the simple principle
t