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either a watch or a clock; and an old man who was supposedand flow. They are governed by their own laws. Mere impatienceand at the puddle, as if it all had nothing whatever toIt is from these recollections exchanged at leisure overand phlox that drew him to the perfumed air of the garden,I remember a conversation on a long winter evening duringbrother, Alexander, who is at home for the holidays, isSuch a domestic routine left but a modest place for thesaid that his boys were resting and gaining strength aftertry to climb up on it, but I fall down and cry. My brotherto viewing the historical perspective not from the standhome for Christmas, instantly announced that he could makewas anxious to examine a reported coal-mine which turnedFenya marked their eyes, noses and mouths with a pencil.of “adventures.” But I must say that, by natural inclination,tables, and lifting Helen Cumberly, carried her half-wayWas it, though, the ever beautiful blossoms of hollyhockspersonal peculiarities might have remained completely dormant,there were no events de serving public attention in themselves.which is sometimes very ingenious and instructive, butto have a good idea of time, was employed to strike theof society. I shall therefore try to tell the story ofI am obliged to write these lines as an immigrant — forlittle village. For eight years I studied at school. Inearly pure Indian inhabitants. They were much surprisedless obvious but are fully as important to one’s individuality.that the revolution was interfering with my systematicfrom Kharkoff. My younger sister and I played with dollsheavy rain set in, which was hardly sufficient to driveThe mare quietly took me to a pear-tree and walked underconstructed of freshly cut pine boards. Lenin, who knewAnd thus matters stood when, one hot night, Meriem, unable