to which I have dedicated my life. “In your philosophy I altogether approve your views of good and evil. These views are perhaps rather fatalistic, but full of Christian charity towards your weak and sinful fellow-creatures. You are quite right in saying that it is foolish to expect wisdom and virtue from a person not endowed with these qualities. Here again I hit upon the obvious difference between your personality and mine; I have always compelled myself to regard the evil in man’s nature as the inevitable negation of good. Taking this point of view (which originates, if I am not mistaken, with Spinoza), I ought never to feel anger or hatred. Actually, however, no moment passes in which I am not prepared to lose my temper, to hate and despise my fellow-creatures, just as though I was not aware that each person acts according to the decree of fate. I know that you are a stranger to the least feeling of spite or contempt. You elude the blows aimed at you by others, and never retaliate. In short, you carry your philosophy into your workaday life. I am different; I think one thing and do another. “I will just give you an instance. I have a friend called Kondratiev; he is a very nice, pleasant fellow, with only one fault--egotism. But he can cloak this failing under such charming, gentlemanly disguises that it is impossible to be angry with him for long. In September, when I was passing through the climax of my suffering in Moscow, and was looking about in a paroxysm of depression for someone to come to my aid, Kondratiev--who was then living on his property in the Government of Kharkov--chanced to write to me one of his usual kindly letters, assuring me of his friendship. I did not want to reveal my state to my brothers at that time, for fear of making them unhappy. My cup of misery was overflowing. I wrote to Kondratiev, telling him of my terrible and hopeless condition. The meaning of my letter, expressed between the lines, was: ‘I am going under, save me! Rescue me, but be quick about it!’ I felt sure that he, a well-to-do and independent man, who was--as he himself declared--ready to make any sacrifice for friendship’s sake, would immediately come to my assistance. Afterwards you know what happened. Not until I was in Clarens did I receive the answer to my letter, which had reached Moscow a week after my flight from thence. In this reply Kondratiev said he was sorry for my plight, and concluded with the following words: ‘Pray, dear friend, pray. God will show you how to overcome your sad condition.’ A cheap and simple way of getting out of the difficulty! To-night I have been reading the third volume of Thackeray’s splendid novel _Pendennis_. ‘The Major’ is a living type, who frequently reminds me of Kondratiev.