a-begging. The alms they got were wretched enough, not everyone had even bread. We all fed ourselves as best we could, thinking to struggle on till the spring crops came up. But by spring-time everyone had ceased to give, and sickness had fallen upon us here. A miserable time it was for us all. For every day we had a morsel we starved for two more. We began to eat grass. Whether 'twas the grass, or something else, I know not, but my wife now fell ill. My wife took to her bed, and I too had no more strength left in me," said the muzhik. "Nohow could we help ourselves."
"Only I struggled on," said the old woman, "and for want of food my strength ebbed away, and I grew weaker and weaker. The little girl also grew weaker, and began to be frightened. We wanted to send her to our neighbour's, and she would not go. She crouched down in a corner, and went not. Our dear neighbour came towards evening, and saw that we were sick and starving, she turned and went away. Her own husband had gone away, and there was nothing to feed the little children with. There they lay and waited for death."
Elisyei listened to their words, and he doubted whether he ought to try and overtake his comrade that day, so he passed the night there. In the morning Elisyei got up and put his hand to all sorts of work about the house, just as if he had been the master there. He helped the old woman to knead the bread, he heated the oven. He went with the little girl to the neighbour's to get what was necessary. There was nothing to be had, nothing at all, every-
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