Unfortunately, the best of Tolstoy's peasant stories, such as "Polikushka," "Two Old Men" (the latter belonging to the recent hortatory period), and the like, are too long for reproduction here. But the moral of the following, "Little Girls Wiser than Old Men," is irreproachable, and the style is the same as in the more important of those written expressly for the people. Easter fell early that year. People had only just ceased to use sledges. The snow still lay in the cottage yards, but rivulets were flowing through the village; a big puddle had formed between the cottages, from the dung-heaps, and two little girls, from different cottages, met by this puddle--one younger, the other older. Both little girls had been dressed in new frocks by their mothers. The little one's frock was blue, the big one's yellow, with a flowered pattern. Both had red kerchiefs bound about their heads. The little girls came out to the puddle, after the morning service in church, displayed their clothes to each other, and began to play. And the fancy seized them to paddle in the water. The younger girl was on the point of wading into the pool with her shoes on, but the elder girl says, "Don't go Malasha, thy mother will scold. Come, I'll take off my shoes, and do thou take off thine." The little lasses took off their shoes, tucked up their frocks and waded into the puddle, to meet each other. Malasha went in up to her knees, and says, "It's deep, Akuliushka--I'm afraid" "Never mind," says she; "it won't get any deeper. Come straight towards me." They began to approach each other, and Akulka says, "Look out, Malasha, don't splash, but walk quietly." No sooner had she spoken, than Malasha set her foot down with a bang in the water, and a splash fell straight on Akulka's frock. The sarafan was splashed, and some of it fell on her nose and in her eyes as well. Akulka saw the spot on her frock, got angry at Malasha, stormed, ran after her, and wanted to beat her. Malasha was frightened when she saw the mischief she had done, leaped out of the puddle, and ran home. Akulka's mother came along, espied the splashed frock and spattered chemise on her daughter. "Where didst thou soil thyself, thou hussy?" "Malasha splashed me on purpose." Akalka's mother seized Malasha, and struck her on the nape of the neck. Malasha shrieked so that the whole street heard her. Malasha's mother came out. "What art thou beating my child for?" The neighbor began to rail. One word led to another, the women scolded each other. The peasant men ran forth, a big crowd assembled in the street. Everybody shouted, nobody listened to anybody else. They scolded and scolded. One gave another a punch, and a regular fight was imminent, when an old woman, Akulka's grandmother, interposed.