of this misery. One day, he gave
a daily paper a story about the tribulations of an ever-hungry
student: his own life!

"I wept like a child in writing these pages," he confesses. "I had
put down all of my sufferings. I was still affected by my great
sadness when I took the manuscript to the editor. I was told to come
back in a few weeks to find out whether it had been accepted. I
returned with a light heart, keeping down my anguish in expectation
of the decision. It came to me in the form of a loud burst of
laughter from the editor, who declared that my work was absolutely
worthless...."

Nevertheless, he energetically pursued his studies, which he
completed at the University of Moscow. "There," he tells us, "life
was, from a material standpoint, less unbearable; my friends and
the aid society came to my assistance; but I recall my life at the
University of St. Petersburg with genuine pleasure; the various
classes of students are there more differentiated and an individual
can more easily find a sympathetic surrounding among such distinct
groups."

Some time after that, Andreyev, disgusted with life, attempted
suicide. "In January, 1894," he writes, "I tried to shoot myself,
but without any appreciable result. I was punished by religious
penance, imposed upon me by authority, and a sickness of the heart
which, although not dangerous, was persistent. During this time I
made one or two equally unsuccessful literary attempts, and I gave
myself up with success to painting, which I have loved since
childhood; I then painted portraits to order for from 5 to 10
rubles....

"In 1897, I received my counsellor's degree and I took up that
profession in Moscow. For want of time I did not succeed in getting
any sort of a 'clientele'; in all, I pleaded but one civil case,
which, however, I lost completely, and several gratuitous criminal
cases. However, I was actively working in reporting these cases for
an important paper."

Finally, two strangely impressionistic stories: "Silence," and "He
Was...," published in an important Petersburg review, brought the
author into prominence. From that time, he devoted himself entirely
to literature.

* * * * *

Andreyev is considered, to-day, as one of the most brilliant
representatives of the new constellation of Russian writers, in
which he takes a place immediately next to Tchekoff, whom he
resembles in the melancholy tone of his work. In him, as i