From that time the children had no more milk. Only on holidays they had milk, for then Marya asked her neighbor for a mug of it.
It happened that the lady of that estate needed a child’s nurse. And the grandmother said to the daughter :
“ Let me go; I will take the place as nurse, and maybe God will let you get along with the children alone. And if God spares me, I can earn enough in a year to buy a cow.”
Thus they did. The grandmother went to the lady; but it grew still more hard for Marya and the children. The children lived a whole year without having milk. They had nothing but kisel jelly and tiuria l to eat and they grew thin and pale.
After the year was over, the grandmother came home, bringing twenty rubles.
“ Well, daughter,” says she, “ now we will buy a cow.”
Marya was delighted; all the children were delighted. Marya and the grandmother went to market to buy their cow. They asked a neighbor to stay with the children, and they asked another neighbor, Uncle Zakhar, to go with them and help them to select the cow.
After saying their prayers they went to town. In the afternoon the children kept running into the street to see if they could see the cow. They amused them-selves guessing what kind of a cow she would be red or black. They kept telling one another how they would feed her. All day long they waited and waited. They walked a verst to meet the cow, but as it was already growing dark, they turned back.
Suddenly they saw coming along the road a cart, and in it sat their grandmother, and beside the hind wheel walked a brindle cow tied by the horn, and their mother was walking behind urging her on with a dry stick.
The children ran to them and began to examine the cow. They brought bread and grass and tried to feed her. The mother went into the cottage, changed her clothes, and went out with her towel and milk-pail. She sat down under the cow and began to wipe the udder. The Lord be praised ! The cow gave milk, and the children stood around and watched the milk straining into the pail, and listened to its sound under the mother’s fingers. When the mother had milked the pail half full, she carried it down cellar, and each of the children had a mug for supper.
Chapter X
FILIPOK
ONCE there was a little boy whose name was Filipp. All the children were going to school. Filipp took his hat and wanted to go too.
But his mother said to him :
“ Where are you going, Filipok ? “
“ To school.”
“ You are too small; you can’t go,” and his mother kept him at home.
The children went off to school. Their father had gone early in the morning to the woods; the mother was engaged in her daily work.
Filipok and his grandmother were left in the cottage, on the oven. Filipok began to feel lonely; his grand-mother was asleep, and he began to search for his hat. When he could not find his own, he took an old one, made of sheepskin, and started for school.
School was kept at the village church. When Filipp walked along his own street, 1 the dogs did not meddle with him, for they knew him; but when he reached the street in the next estate, a black dog 2 came bounding out and barking, and behind this dog came another still bigger, named Wolfie, 3 and Filipp started to run, the dogs after him.
Filipok began to cry; then he stubbed his toe and fell. A peasant came out and called off the dogs, and asked :
“ Where are you going all sole alone, you little rascal? “
Filipok made no answer, pulled up his skirt, and started to run with all his might. He ran to the school. There was no one on the steps, but in school the voices of the children could be heard in a confused murmur.
Filipp was now filled with fear :
“ Suppose the teacher should drive me away ? “
And he began to consider what he should do. If he should go back, the dogs might bite him; but if he went into school, he was afraid of the teacher.
A peasant woman passed the school, with a pail, and she said :
“ All the rest are studying, and what are you standing there for?”
So Filipok went into school. In the entry he took off his cap and opened the door. The room was full of children. All were talking at once, and the teacher, in a red scarf, was walking up and down in the midst of them.
“ Who are you ? “ he demanded of Filipok.
Filipok clutched his cap and said nothing.
“Who are you?”
Filipok said never a word.
“Are you dumb?”
Filipok was so scared that he could not speak.
“Well, then, go home if you can’t speak.”
Now Filipok would have been glad to say something, but his throat was all parched with terror.
He looked at the teacher and burst into tears.
Then the teacher felt sorry for him. He caressed his head, and inquired of the children who the little fellow was.
“This is Filipok, Kostiushka’s l brother; he has been wanting for a long time to go to school, but his mother would not let him, and he must have run away to school.”
“ Well, sit down on the bench next your brother, and I will ask your mother to let you come to school.”
The teacher began to teach Filipok his letters; but
Filipok already knew them, and could even read a little. “ Very well; spell your name, then.” Filipok said, “ Khve-i, khvi le-i, li peok, pok.” Everybody laughed.
“Bravo!” said the teacher; “who taught you to read?” Filipok summoned courage, and said : “ Kostiushka. I am mischievous. I learned them
all at once. I am terribly smart! “ The teacher laughed, and asked : “ And do you know your prayer ? “ Filipok said yes, and began to repeat the Ave Maria:
but he did not get every word quite correct. The teacher interrupted him, and said : “You must not boast. I will teach you.” After this Filipok began to go to school regularly with the children.
Stories From Botany
Translated by Nathan Haskell Dole 1888
Chapter I
MY APPLE TREES
I SET OUT two hundred young apple trees, and for three years, in the spring and autumn, I dug around them, and when winter came, I wrapped them around with straw as a protection against rabbits.
On the fourth year, when the snow had gone, I went out to examine my apple trees. They had grown dur-ing the winter, their bark was smooth and full of sap, the branches were all perfect, and on all the extremities of the twigs were the buds of flowers, as round as little peas.
Here and there, where the buds had already burst, the edges of the petals could be seen.
I knew that all the buds would become flowers and fruit, and I was full of gladness as I watched my apple trees.
But when I came to strip off the straw from the first tree, I noticed that at its foot, just below the level of the soil, the bark of the tree had been nibbled around, down to the rind, just like a white ring.
The mice had done it.
I stripped the next tree, and on the next tree it was just the same. Out of two hundred apple trees not one was untouched. I smeared the injured places with pitch and wax; but as soon as the apple trees bloomed, the flowers immediately fell to the ground. Little leaves came out, but they faded and dried up. The bark grew rough and black.
Out of my two hundred trees only nine were saved.
The bark of these nine apple trees had not been en-tirely girdled, but in the white rings there was left a band of bark. At the juncture of these bands with the bark warts grew; but though the trees were badly in-jured, still they survived. All the rest were lost, save that below the girdled place little sprouts came up; but they were wild.
The bark on trees is the same as the veins in man; the blood flows through a man’s veins, and through the bark the sap flows over the tree and provides it with branches, leaves, and flowers. The whole inside of a tree may be removed, as often happens with old willows, and if only the bark is alive, the tree will live; but if the bark is destroyed, the tree is destroyed. If a man’s veins are cut, the man dies : in the first place, because the blood runs out of them; and in the second place, because then the blood cannot be distributed over the body.
And in the same way the birch tree perishes when children make a hole in it to drink the sap; all the sap runs out.
And in the same way my apple trees perished be-cause the mice entirely girdled the bark so that there was no way for the sap from the roots to reach the branches, the leaves, and the blossoms.
Chapter II
OLD POPLAR
OUR park had been neglected for five years. I en-gaged workmen with axes and shovels, and I myself began to work with them in my park. We cut down and lopped off dead and wild
