age scholar. "The seminary
of that time," he used to say to me, referring to that part of his
life, "was not what it is now. Nowadays the teachers talk about
humanitarianism, and the boys would think that a crime had been
committed against human dignity if one of them happened to be flogged.
But they don't consider that human dignity is at all affected by their
getting drunk, and going to--to--to places that I never went to. I was
flogged often enough, and I don't think that I am a worse man on that
account; and though I never heard then anything about pedagogical
science that they talk so much about now, I'll read a bit of Latin yet
with the best of them.

"When my studies were finished," said Batushka, continuing the simple
story of his life, "the Bishop found a wife for me, and I succeeded
her father, who was then an old man. In that way I became a priest of
Ivanofka, and have remained here ever since. It is a hard life, for the
parish is big, and my bit of land is not very fertile; but, praise be to
God! I am healthy and strong, and get on well enough."

"You said that the Bishop found a wife for you," I remarked. "I suppose,
therefore, that he was a great friend of yours."

"Not at all. The Bishop does the same for all the seminarists who wish
to be ordained: it is an important part of his pastoral duties."

"Indeed!" I exclaimed in astonishment. "Surely that is carrying the
system of paternal government a little too far. Why should his Reverence
meddle with things that don't concern him?"

"But these matters do concern him. He is the natural protector of widows
and orphans, especially among the clergy of his own diocese. When a
parish priest dies, what is to become of his wife and daughters?"

Not perceiving clearly the exact bearing of these last remarks, I
ventured to suggest that priests ought to economise in view of future
contingencies.

"It is easy to speak," replied Batushka: "'A story is soon told,' as
the old proverb has it, 'but a thing is not soon done.' How are we to
economise? Even without saving we have the greatest difficulty to make
the two ends meet."

"Then the widow and daughters might work and gain a livelihood."

"What, pray, could they work at?" asked Batushka, and paused for a
reply. Seeing that I had none to offer him, he continued, "Even the
house and land belong not to them, but to the new priest."

"If that position occurred in a novel," I said, "I could foretell what
would h