TALES OF TWO COUNTRIES BY MAXIM GORKY LONDON T. WERNER LAURIE, LTD. 8 ESSEX STREET, STRAND 1914 "Aleksyei Maksimovitch Pyeshkof (pseudonym Maxim Gorky). Born at Nijni-Novgorod, March 14, 1868. A Russian writer. He led a vagabond life for many years, working and tramping with the poorest classes in Russia, and his writings record the tragedy of poverty and crime as he found it. Among the best known of his works are 'MAKAR CHUDRA' (1890), 'EMILIAN PIBGAI,' 'CHELKASH,' 'OSHYBKA' (1895), 'TYENOVYA KARTINKI'(1895), 'TOSKA,' 'KONOVALOV' (1896), 'MALVA' (1896), 'FOMA GORDYEEV'(1901), 'MUJIKI' (1901). Three volumes of short stories (1898-99), 'MIEST-CHANYE' (1902), 'COMRADES' (1907), 'THE SPY' (1908), and 'IN THE DEPTHS,' a play". _Century Cyclopædia of Names._ ITALIAN TALES MAN AND THE SIMPLON AN UNWRITTEN SONATA SUN AND SEA LOVE OF LOVERS HEARTS AND CREEDS THE TRAITOR'S MOTHER THE FREAK THE MIGHT OF MOTHERHOOD A MESSAGE FROM THE SEA THE HONOUR OF THE VILLAGE THE SOCIALIST THE HUNCHBACK ON THE STEAMER RUSSIAN TALES THE PROFESSOR THE POET THE WRITER THE MAN WITH A NATIONAL FACE THE LIBERAL THE JEWS AND THEIR FRIENDS HARD TO PLEASE PASSIVE RESISTANCE MAKING A SUPERMAN ITALIAN TALES MAN AND THE SIMPLON A blue lake is deeply set in mountains capped with eternal snow. A dark network of gardens descends in gorgeous folds to the water. White houses that look like lumps of sugar peer down from the bank into the lake; and everything around is as quiet and peaceful as the sleep of a child. It is morning. A perfume of flowers is wafted gently from the mountains. The sun is new risen and the dew still glistens on the leaves of trees and the petals of flowers. A road like a grey ribbon thrusts into the quiet mountain gorge--a stone-paved road which yet looks as soft as velvet, so that one almost has a desire to stroke it. Near a pile of stones sits a workman, like some dark coloured beetle; on his breast is a medal; his face is serious, bold, but kindly. Placing his sunburnt hands on his knees and looking up into the face of a passer-by who has stopped in the shade of a chestnut-tree, he says: "This is the Simplon, signor, and this is a medal for working in the Simplon tunnel," And lowering his eyes to his breast he smiles fondly at the bright piece of metal. "Oh, every kind of work is hard for a time, until you get used to it, and then it grows upon you and becomes easy. Ay, but it was hard work though!" He shook his head a little, smiling at the sun; then suddenly he checked and waved his hand; his black eyes glistened.