out two lines with a rhyme, and hoped shortly to find the rest. I absolutely cannot remember how such a strange idea, for a child, could have got into my head, but I recall that it gave me pleasure, and that to all questions about the matter, I answered that I should not fail to offer grandmother a present, but that I should not tell anybody what it was.
Contrary to my expectation, it soon appeared that, in spite of all my efforts, I was not able to find any other verses except the two lines which I had made up on the spur of the moment. I began to read the poems that were in our readers, but neither Dmítriev, nor Derzhávin helped me at all! On the contrary, they only convinced me of my incapacity. As I knew that Karl Ivánovich was fond of copying poems, I began quietly to rummage through his papers, and among his German poems found one Russian lyric, which, no doubt, belonged to his own pen.
Remember me near,
Remember me far,
Remember my
Even from now up to ever,
Remember me to my grave,
How faithful I can love.
— Karl Mauer.
This poem, written in a beautiful, round hand, on thin letter-paper, took my fancy on account of the stirring feeling which pervaded it. I immediately learned it by rote, and decided to take it for my model. Things now went much easier. On the name day my greeting, consisting of twelve lines, was ready, and, seating myself at the table in the class-room, I copied it on vellum paper.
Two sheets of paper were already spoiled, — not that I wished to change something, the verses seemed perfect to
