e sumptuous variety of his descriptions.
Where do we not go, and whom do we not meet in his books? First, we
are in a peaceful little town of the southwest, then in the thick
woods of Poliyessye, in the snow-covered and frozen Siberian
forests, or in the valleys of Sakhaline, inhabited by half-breed
Russians and escaped convicts, not to mention the innumerable
sectarians who fill the Siberian prisons. And Korolenko never
repeats. Not even a detail occurs more than once. Each of his works
is a little world in itself. The author, moreover, unlike other
writers, is never satisfied with pale sketches; each character is
shown in full relief, each picture is absolutely finished. This
wholeness, this finish which does not hurt the harmony of the
proportions, is a precious quality, very rare in our time.

* * * * *

The "Sketches of a Siberian Tourist," published in 1896, in which
bandits of various odd types tell thrilling tales of nocturnal
attacks and other adventures, is a kind of artistic novel. The
postillion is the most original character in the book. Huge of
stature, audacious and clever, he exercises a mysterious influence
over the brigands, whom he inspires with a superstitious terror.
Most of them, thinking him invulnerable, do not dare attack the
travelers whom he is driving.

That same year another work of Korolenko's appeared, called: "In Bad
Company,"--a sort of autobiography which added to his renown. The
story, poetically simple, is laid in a provincial town. The hero is
a little, seven-year-old boy called Volodya. He is the son of the
local judge. The mother has been dead for a long time, and the
father, in his sorrow, more or less loses track of his children, who
roam about unwatched.

The little town has its historic legends; it boasts of the ruins of
a castle, which in times gone by was inhabited by rich Polish
counts, whose descendants, having become poor, have long since left
their manorial home. The castle has served as a refuge for a nomadic
population. Expelled by the count's agent, this little band has
taken up its abode in a dilapidated chapel in the crypts of a
cemetery.

The chief of this barefoot brigade is called Tibertius Droba. He has
two children: Vanek, a large, dark-haired lad, whom one sees
wandering about the village with a sullen look on his face, and
Maroussya, a small and thin child, who is gradually fading away in
the darkness of her cellar-like h