chestnut, and rather rough; it did not
resemble our ordinary nuts. I laid it aside, and intended to show it to
the doctor ... but it got lost.... I did not find it again.

Well, sir, so we sent him to the seminary, and, as I have already
informed you, he rejoiced us by his success. So my spouse and I assumed
that he would turn out a fine man! When he came for a sojourn at home it
was a pleasure to look at him; he was so comely, and there was no
mischief about him;--every one liked him, every one congratulated us.
Only he was still rather thin of body, and there was no real good
rosiness in his face. So then, he was already in his nineteenth year,
and his education would soon be finished. When suddenly we receive from
him a letter.--He writes to us: "Dear father and mother, be not wroth
with me, permit me to be a layman;[19] my heart does not incline to the
ecclesiastical profession, I dread the responsibility, I am afraid I
shall sin--doubts have taken hold upon me! Without your parental
permission and blessing I shall venture on nothing--but one thing I will
tell you; I am afraid of myself, for I have begun to think a great
deal."

I assure you, my dear sir, that this letter made me very sad,--as though
a boar-spear had pricked my heart,--for I saw that I should have no one
to take my place![20] My eldest son was a monk; and this one wanted to
abandon his vocation altogether. I was also pained because priests from
our family have lived in our parish for close upon two hundred years.
But I thought to myself: "There's no use in kicking against the pricks;
evidently, so it was predestined for him. What sort of a pastor would he
be if he has admitted doubt to his mind?" I took counsel with my wife,
and wrote to him in the following sense:

"Think it over well, my son Yakoff; measure ten times before you cut
off once--there are great difficulties in the worldly service, cold and
hunger, and scorn for our caste! And thou must know beforehand that no
one will lend a hand to aid; so see to it that thou dost not repine
afterward. My desire, as thou knowest, has always been that thou
shouldst succeed me; but if thou really hast come to cherish doubts as
to thy calling and hast become unsteady in the faith, then it is not my
place to restrain thee. The Lord's will be done! Thy mother and I will
not refuse thee our blessing."

Yakoff answered me with a grateful letter. "Thou hast rejoiced me, dear
father," said he. "It is my i