“Eight years. I received no rise in my salary for the whole time. One day the inspector came, and he asked me, ‘How long have you been teaching here?’ ‘Eight years,’ said I. ‘Has your salary been raised?’ ‘No,’ said I; ‘I receive the minimum salary.’ ‘Why is that?’ ‘I don’t know.’ Then he turned to the chief of the district and said, ‘The teacher is to receive a rise in his salary.’ The inspector observed, too, that the school-house garden was neglected, and ordered it to be put to rights, saying, ‘that it would then have a favourable moral influence on the minds of the scholars, who would, in time, become agriculturists.’” “I agree with him. The bad tendencies must be restrained in these people from the very tenderest years.” “The inspector ordered flowers to be planted in the garden——” “H’m, in my opinion that is superfluous. He should have had birch trees planted; that would have influenced the pupils more favourably.” “There were birch trees already——” “Ah! Birch trees are as valuable as the ‘Clever Reader’ and ‘Domestic Conversations.’ Are you married?” [Illustration: “I SHOULD HAVE LIKED TO MARRY.” ] “I should have liked to marry, but I was afraid to. The parish clerk of Ogoùrtzov offered me his sister-in-law in marriage. I knew her—she was a first-rate girl. I went to see her.” “Was she clever?” “A-a! Really, sir, I don’t know whether she was clever or not.” “But you talked with her?” “Oh yes, of course! I said, ‘We are acquaintances, Olga Mìtrevna.’” “Oh yes,” she said, “I am quite aware of that.” “I have been brought here,” said I, “to ask you in marriage.” “Indeed!” said she. “Do you know where I have seen you? At a christening at Ogoùrtzov,” said I, and she answered— “Yes, I remember. And you are from Khmièlnoye?” “Yes,” said I. “Ah! the scenery is pretty round there.” “And that was about all her cleverness!... Her father kept on begging me to marry quickly, because a man can’t live properly without some one to keep his house. ‘We shall get on much better together,’ she used to say.... So we stayed up till dawn, singing and dancing.” “Sacred songs?” “No, sir, various—sacred and secular.” “Well, and did your betrothed sing?” “No; afterwards, when I left her—she sang that romance—you know— ‘’Twas my fault for thus betraying All too soon my love to thee; Now thou hast beheld my weakness, Ah! thou hast forsaken me.’” “That’s to say, you jilted her?” “I don’t know—anyway, I hadn’t anything to keep her on.” “H’m—so you say the school burned down?” “To the ground.” “And are all the books and things burnt too?” “No; they were saved. The fire was in the day-time, and our people had time to get the books out.” “That’s good. So I suppose it will soon be built again, and you can go on being teacher?” “I don’t wish to take that work.” “Why not?”