printed sheets, in which he related such
and such facts, and he would very likely "develop these chapters for the
separate edition of his novel."

In concluding, I wish to say a few words about my father's own opinion
of "Anna Karenina."

In 1875 he wrote to N. N. Strakhof:

"I must confess that I was delighted by the success of the last piece
of 'Anna Karenina.' I had by no means expected it, and to tell you the
truth, I am surprised that people are so pleased with such ordinary and
EMPTY stuff."

The same year he wrote to Fet:

"It is two months since I have defiled my hands with ink or my heart
with thoughts. But now I am setting to work again on my TEDIOUS, VULGAR
'ANNA KARENINA,' with only one wish, to clear it out of the way as
soon as possible and give myself leisure for other occupations, but not
schoolmastering, which I am fond of, but wish to give up; it takes up
too much time."

In 1878, when the novel was nearing its end, he wrote again to Strakhof:

"I am frightened by the feeling that I am getting into my summer mood
again. I LOATHE what I have written. The proof-sheets for the April
number [of "Anna Karenina" in the "Russky Vyestnik"] now lie on my
table, and I am afraid that I have not the heart to correct them.
EVERYTHING in them is BEASTLY, and the whole thing ought to be
rewritten,--all that has been printed, too,--scrapped and melted down,
thrown away, renounced. I ought to say, 'I am sorry; I will not do
it any more,' and try to write something fresh instead of all this
incoherent, neither-fish-nor-flesh-nor-fowlish stuff."

That was how my father felt toward his novel while he was writing it.
Afterward I often heard him say much harsher things about it.

"What difficulty is there in writing about how an officer fell in love
with a married woman?" he used to say. "There's no difficulty in it, and
above all no good in it."

I am quite convinced that if my father could have done so, he long ago
would have destroyed this novel, which he never liked and always wanted
to disown.

(To be continued)

REMINISCENCES OF TOLSTOY (Part II.)

BY HIS SON, COUNT ILYA TOLSTOY

TRANSLATED BY GEORGE CALDERON

IN the summer, when both families were together at Yasnaya, our own
and the Kuzminsky's, when both the house and the annex were full of the
family and their guests, we used our letter-box.

It originated long before, when I was still small and had only just
learne