“You should not speak like that, Martin,” replied the old pilgrim. “It is not for us to judge the acts of God. We must rely, not upon our own understanding, but upon the Divine wisdom. God saw fit that your son should die and that you should live. Therefore it must be better so. If you despair, it is because you have wished to live too much for your own pleasure.” “For what, then, should I live?” asked Martin. “For God alone,” replied the old man. “It is He who gave you life, and therefore it is He for whom you should live. When you come to live for Him you will cease to grieve, and your trials will become easy to bear.” Martin was silent. Then he spoke again. “But how am I to live for God?” he asked. “Christ has shown us the way,” answered the old man. “Can you read? If so, buy a Testament and study it. You will learn there how to live for God. Yes, it is all shown you there.” These words sank into Avdeitch’s soul. He went out the same day, bought a large-print copy of the New Testament, and set himself to read it. At the beginning Avdeitch had meant only to read on festival days, but when he once began his reading he found it so comforting to the soul that he came never to let a day pass without doing so. On the second occasion he became so engrossed that all the kerosene was burnt away in the lamp before he could tear himself away from the book. Thus he came to read it every evening, and, the more he read, the more clearly did he understand what God required of him, and in what way he could live for God; so that his heart grew ever lighter and lighter. Once upon a time, whenever he had lain down to sleep, he had been used to moan and sigh as he thought of his little Kapitoshka; but now he only said—“Glory to Thee, O Lord! Glory to Thee! Thy will be done!” From that time onwards Avdeitch’s life became completely changed. Once he had been used to go out on festival days and drink tea in a tavern, and had not denied himself even an occasional glass of _vodka_. This he had done in the company of a boon companion, and, although no drunkard, would frequently leave the tavern in an excited state and talk much nonsense as he shouted and disputed with this friend of his. But now he had turned his back on all this, and his life had become quiet and joyous. Early in the morning he would sit down to his work, and labor through his appointed hours. Then he would take the lamp down from a shelf, light it, and sit down to read. And the more he read, the more he understood, and the clearer and happier he grew at heart. * * * * * It happened once that Martin had been reading late. He had been reading those verses in the sixth chapter of the Gospel of St. Luke which run: