him.

After one term of this, he tried to go on with his own studies,
sometimes in Yuchovitch, sometimes in Polotzk, as opportunity
dictated. He made the journey to Polotzk beside his father, jogging
along in the springless wagon on the rutty roads. He took a boy's
pleasure in the gypsy life, the green wood, and the summer storm;
while his father sat moody beside him, seeing nothing but the spavins
on the horse's hocks, and the mud in the road ahead.

There is little else to tell of my father's boyhood, as most of his
time was spent in the schoolroom. Outside the schoolroom he was
conspicuous for high spirits in play, daring in mischief, and
independence in everything. But a boy's playtime was so short in
Yuchovitch, and his resources so limited, that even a lad of spirit
came to the edge of his premature manhood without a regret for his
nipped youth. So my father, at the age of sixteen and a half, lent a
willing ear to the cooing voice of the marriage broker.

Indeed, it was high time for him to marry. His parents had kept him so
far, but they had two daughters to marry off, and not a groschen laid
by for their dowries. The cost of my father's schooling, as he
advanced, had mounted to seventeen rubles a term, and the poor rebbe
was seldom paid in full. Of course my father's scholarship was his
fortune--in time it would be his support; but in the meanwhile the
burden of feeding and clothing him lay heavy on his parents'
shoulders. The time had come to find him a well-to-do father-in-law,
who should support him and his wife and children, while he continued
to study in the seminary.

After the usual conferences between parents and marriage brokers, my
father was betrothed to an undertaker's daughter in Polotzk. The girl
was too old,--every day of twenty years,--but three hundred rubles in
dowry, with board after marriage, not to mention handsome presents to
the bridegroom, easily offset the bride's age. My father's family, to
the humblest cousin, felt themselves set up by the match he had made;
and the boy was happy enough, displaying a watch and chain for the
first time in his life, and a good coat on week days. As for his
fiancee, he could have no objection to her, as he had seen her only at
a distance, and had never spoken to her.

When it was time for the wedding preparations to begin, news came to
Yuchovitch of the death of the bride-elect, and my father's prospects
seemed fallen to the ground. But the underta