to hear women's voices in them.... And
everything round about,--the sky, the sea, the bellying of the sail up
aloft, the purling of the waves at the stern,--everything spoke of love,
of blissful love.

And she whom each one of us loved--she was there ... invisibly and near
at hand. Yet another moment and lo! her eyes would beam forth, her smile
would blossom out.... Her hand would grasp thy hand, and draw thee after
her into an unfading paradise!

O azure realm! I have beheld thee ... in my dream!

June, 1878.

TWO RICH MEN

When men in my presence extol Rothschild, who out of his vast revenues
allots whole thousands for the education of children, the cure of the
sick, the care of the aged, I laud and melt in admiration.

But while I laud and melt I cannot refrain from recalling a
poverty-stricken peasant's family which received an orphaned niece into
its wretched, tumble-down little hovel.

"If we take Katka," said the peasant-woman; "we shall spend our last
kopeks on her, and there will be nothing left wherewith to buy salt for
our porridge."

"But we will take her ... and unsalted porridge," replied the
peasant-man, her husband.

Rothschild is a long way behind that peasant-man!

July, 1878.

THE OLD MAN

The dark, distressing days have come....

One's own maladies, the ailments of those dear to him, cold and the
gloom of old age. Everything which thou hast loved, to which thou hast
surrendered thyself irrevocably, collapses and falls into ruins. The
road has taken a turn down hill.

But what is to be done? Grieve? Lament? Thou wilt help neither thyself
nor others in that way....

On the withered, bent tree the foliage is smaller, more scanty--but the
verdure is the same as ever.

Do thou also shrivel up, retire into thyself, into thy memories, and
there, deep, very deep within, at the very bottom of thy concentrated
soul, thy previous life, accessible to thee alone, will shine forth
before thee with its fragrant, still fresh verdure, and the caress and
strength of the springtime!

But have a care ... do not look ahead, poor old man!

July, 1878.

THE CORRESPONDENT

Two friends are sitting at a table and drinking tea.

A sudden noise has arisen in the street. Plaintive moans, violent oaths,
outbursts of malicious laughter have become audible.

"Some one is being beaten," remarked one of the friends, after having
cast a glance out of the window.

"A criminal? A