a nine-hundred-pound man. I'll show you some on't," and he actually pulled out of his breeches pocket seven hundred pounds in bank-notes, and presented them as his references. In short, he rented Scott's Farm. But my brother could never bear anybody who amused him to come to grief, and so for a time he was in anxiety lest Moore should lose the money he had acquired by his industry and kept by his economy. However, the new tenant stocked the farm, which his predecessors had not done, and let fall remarks indicating prosperity, as that a farmer had no business to go to his barn door for rent, and that he could make a living anywhere. Besides, the rising ricks spoke for themselves. I believe he had been tenant nine months when, one day, my brother, seeing him smoking a pipe over his farmyard gate, dismounted expressly to talk to him. Mr. Moore's first sentence betrayed that he was no longer a shoemaker. "Look'ee here, Squire, a farmering man wants to have four eyes, and three hands: two for work, one is always wanted in his pocket-rent, tithe, labor, taxes, rates. Why, the parish tapped me three times last month. My wife got behind in her washing through wasting of her time counting out the money I had to pay away. As to my men, I be counted sharp, but I must be split in two to be sharp enough for they." "I was afraid you would find the rent heavy," said my brother, innocently. "The rent!" cried Mr. Moore; "I don't vally it that!" and he snapped his fingers at it. "But how about the labor-men and horses, and women; and the three crops of weeds on one field, through me coming after tipplers and fools as left the land foul for Moore to clean after they. And then-" He paused, and jerking his thumb over his shoulder, added, "THE BLACK SLUG THAT EATS UP THE TENTH OF THE LAND." My brother did not understand the simile one bit till he followed the direction of Mr. Moore's thumb, and beheld a beneficed clergyman crossing the common like a lamb, all unconscious of the injurious metaphor shot after him by oppressed agriculture. Having suppressed a grin with some difficulty, my brother said, gravely: "I'll tell ye what it is, Moore; if you went to church a little oftener, you would find out that the clergy are worth their money to those who go by their advice in this world, and so learn not to forget the next. Come, now; our parson has no tithes, and only a very small stipend, yet I never see you at church. Surely you might go once on a Sunday." Now I must premise that Mr. A—, justly dissatisfied with the morals of that parish, preached sermons which were in fact philippics. "Why, Squire," said Moore, "I have tried 'un. But I do take after my horses: I can't stand all whip and no carn." Undaunted by the comparison, his landlord gravely reminded him that there were prayers as well as a sermon, and prayers full of charity, and fitted to all conditions of life. "Well, Squire," said the farmer, half apologetically, "I'll tell you the truth: I never was a hog at prayers." It was a pity he could not add he never was greedy of this world's goods. One day my brother heard his voice rather loud in the yard, and found him bargaining with a lad in a smock-frocka stranger. At sight of the Squire the injured farmer appealed to him. "Look at 'un," said he, "a-standing there." The lad remained impassive as the gate post under the scrutiny thus dramatically invited. wants ten shilling a week, and three pound Michaelmas." Then turning from my brother to the lad: "Now what did you have at your last place-without a lie?" "A "Six shillings, and a pound at Michaelmas," said the young fellow, calmly. You "And you thinks to rise me ten shillings! Now, tell 'ee what it is, young man, you hire yourself to keep the mildew out o' my wheat, and the rot out o' my sheep, or else draa no wages out o' me. make me safe as my horses sha'n't go broken-winded, nor blind, nor lame, while you be driving on 'em, nor my cows sha'n't slip their calves, nor my sows sha'n't lay over their litters and smother 'em. I maunt have no fly in my turmots under you, my barley and wuts must come to the rick nice and dry and bright, and then I'll pay you half a sovereign a week”—(with sudden friendliness)-"Where did 'ee come from?" "Cholsey village." "How ever did 'ee find your way all up here?" He let his parlor and a bedroom to a lodger for fifteen shillings a week, a sum The lad said it was only six miles; he unheard of in those parts. had found his way easy enough. This transpired in a few months, and "Then you'll find it easier back. Good- my brother congratulated him. morning." And off he went. The lad put his hands in his breeches pockets and strolled away unmoved in another direction; and my brother retired swiftly to take down every syllable of this inimitable dialogue. It afterward appeared that his was the only genuine exit; the other two were examples of what the French dramatists call fausse sortie. For the very next day this Cholsey lad was at work for Mr. Moore. Moore had a cur his wife implored him to hang out of her way. "Well," said he, "anything for a quiet life. You find the card; I'll find the labor.” Ere a cord was found Moore caught sight of the good easy Squire; he came out and told him Toby had been poaching on his own account, and had better be tied up except when wanted. Offered him for three half-crowns, praised him up to the skies. Squire Easy submitted to the infliction, and Toby was sent to the kennel. Next week, Moore had made a bad bargain. I let 'ee have Toby too cheap; I hear of all sides as he's the best rabbiter you ha' got, a regular hexpeditious good dog." He gave his landlord a piece of advice which, to tell the truth, that gentleman needed sorely; for he was never known to make one good bargain in all his life. Said Mr. Moore: "Don't you never listen to a chap as won't say aforehand how much he'll give or take to a farthing, or a halfpenny at the very outside. When that there humbug says to you, 'Oh, we sha'n't quarrel,' says you, 'I'll take care of that, for down you puts it to a farthing.' When he says, 'Oh, I'll not hurt you,' says you, 'Oh yes, ye will, if I give you a chance; put it down to a farthing, or I'm off. me. Here is his reply ad verbum : "Why, Squire, it doesn't all stick to There's my missus she is took off her work to attend to he. Then there's a great hearty gal I'm fossed to hire. There goes eighteenpence a week and her vittels. I tried to get a sickly one as wouldn't eat my head off, but there warn't a sickly one as 'ud come. Feared of a little work! Now" (with sudden severity) "do I get half a guinea out of he?" Then with a shout: "No!" Then with the sudden calmness of unalterable conviction: "Not by sixpence." This seems a tough man, not to be easily moved, a wary man, not to be outwitted; yet misfortune befell him, and rankled for years. My brother left Oxfordshire and settled in a milder climate. During his long sojourn there a vague report reached him that bad money had been passed on Moore, and he had made the district ring. When after seven years my brother returned to his native woods, he looked in at Scott's Farm, and there was Moore, the only familiar face about which did not seem a day older. After other friendly inquiries my brother said: "But how about the bad money that was passed on you? Tell me all about it." "That I wool," said Moore, delighted to find a good listener to a grievance which to him was ever new, though the circumstance was five years old. "I was at dung-cart most of that day, and then I washed, and tried to get a minute to milk the cow; but bless your heart, they never will let me milk her afore sunset. It's Moore here, and Moore there, from half a dozen of 'em; and Mr. Moore here, and Mr. Moore there, from the one or two as have learned manners, which very few of 'em have in these parts; and between 'em they allus contrive to keep me from my own cow till dusk. Well, sir, I had got leave to milk her, hurry-scurry as usual, and night coming on, when a man I had sold a fat hog to came into the yard to pay. 'Wait a minute,' says I. But no, he was like the rest, couldn't let me milk her in peace; wanted to settle and drive the baacon home. So I took my head out o' the cow, and I went to him without so much as letting my smock down, and he gave me the money, £6 178. I took the gold in one hand so, and the silver in t'other so, and I went across the yard to the house, and I asked the missus to get a light, and then I told the money before her, six sovereigns and seventeen shillings, and left her to scratch him a receipt, while I went back to my cow, and I thought to milk her in peace at last. But before I had drained her as should be, out comes my missus, and screams fit to wake the dead: 'George! George!' 'I be coming,' says I; so I up with the milk pail and goes to her. 'Whose cat's dead now?' says I, 'for mercy's sake.' "Come in, come in,' says she. 'George, whoever is that man? He have paid us a bad shilling; look at that.' Well, we tried that there shilling on the table first, and then on the hearth: 'twas bad; couldn't be wus. 'Run after him,' says she; 'run this moment.' 'Lard,' says I, 'they be half-way to Wallingford by this time. Here, give me a scrap of paper. I'll carry it about in my fob; he goes to all the markets; he will change it, you may be sure.' "Well, the very next Friday as ever was I met him at Wallingford market, pulls out the paper, shows him the shilling, tells him it warn't good. He looks at it and agreed with me. "Then change it, if you please,' says I. 'What for?' says he. 'I don't want no bad shillings no more nor you do.' 'But,' says I, 'price of hog was six seventeen, and you only paid six sixteen in money.' 'Yes, I did,' says he. 'I gave you six seventeen.' 'No, ye didn't.' 'Yes, I did.' 'No, ye didn't; you gave me six sixteen, and this. Now, my man,' says I, 'act honest and pay me t'other shilling.' No he wouldn't. There was a crowd by this time, so I said, 'Look here, gentlemen, I sold this man a hog, and he gave me this in part pay, which it ain't a real shilling, and mine was a genuine hog;' so they all said it warn't a shilling at all. When the man heard that he was for slipping off, but I stepped after him, with half the market at my heels. 'Will you pay me my shilling?' 'I don't owe you no shilling,' says he. You do,' says I; and pay me my shilling you shall.' 'I won't.' 'You shall; I'll pison your life else.' "Next time of asking, as the saying is, was Reading market. Catches him | cheapening a calf. Takes out shilling. 'Now,' says I, 'here's your bad shilling as you gave me for my hog-which it is a warning to honest folk with calves to sell,' says I. Be you going to change it?' 'No, I bain't.' 'You bain't?' says I. You shall, then,' says I. 'Time will show,' says he, and bid me good-day, ironical. I let him get a little way, and then I stepped after him. 'Hy, stop that gentleman,' I hal'He have given me a bad shilling.' You might hear me all over the market. Then he threatened defanation or summat; I didn't keer; I bawled him out o' Reading market that there afternoon. loed. "Met him at Henley next; commenced operations-took out the shilling. He crossed over directly, I after 'un, and held out the shilling. Tain't no use,' says I. 'You sha'n't do no business in this here county till you have changed this here shilling. Come, my man, 'tis only a shilling; what is all this here to do about a shilling?' says I; act honest and give me my shilling, and take this here keepsake back.' 'I won't,' says he. 'You won't?' says I; 'then I'll hunt you out of every market in England. I'll hunt ye into the wilderness and the hocean wave.' "He got very sick of me in a year or two's marketing, I can tell you; for I never missed a market now, because of the shilling. He had to give up trade and go home whenever he saw my shilling and me a-coming." "And so you tired him out?" "And got your shilling?" That I did not. He found a way to cheat me after all" (with a sudden yell of reprobation). "He went and died-and here's the shilling!" UNUTTERED. WAITING for words-as on the broad expanse Expectant of the sunshine or the shade, Or at the dawn's pale opening portal stayed, In tears, that all the quivering eyelids fill, In smiles, that on the lip of silence fade. [F, six hundred years ago, Russia had I. not already been behind all Europe in such civilization as Europe then possessed, the invasion of the Tartars in the thirteenth century would have sufficed to throw her and keep her back. But the cause of the slow progress of civilization in Russia, from the retreat of the Tartars in the fifteenth century up to the time of Peter the Great, must be looked for in the destruction of the Eastern Empire, in that same century, by Mohammed II. The fall of Constantinople, which, by driving so many Greek artists to Italy, brought about the æsthetic and intellectual movement in Western Europe known as the revival of arts and letters, produced in Russia a corresponding decline; for the Russian Church, as if with the view of preventing those schisms which have agitated and torn so many other nations, prohibited the Russians from visiting any country not professing the Greek faith; and no country professing the Greek faith existed outside Russia after the fall of Constantinople. VOL. LXVII.-No. 397.-7 Apart from the minor princes who ruled those portions of Russia external to the Grand Duchy of Moscow, the republics of Novgorod and Pskov still at this time preserved their independence. But they were destined to fall beneath the attacks of Ivan, the first independent Tsar of Russia, and of Vassili, his son. It was not, however, until the accession of Ivan IV., surnamed the Terrible, that they were reduced finally to submission. "ter Prosper Mérimée has said of this sanguinary monster that he was never rible" except to his own subjects. This is not strictly true, though it was by the tortures that he inflicted upon those over whom he had been called to rule that he gained the unenviable epithet affixed to his name. This prince was but four years old when he ascended the throne, and the government of the country was, until he became of age, carried on by the House of Boyards, under the direction of his mother, the Princess Helen, of the Polish family of Glinski. He was but thirteen when a political party, opposed to the more influential of | warded to Moscow, whence the Tsar wrote the Boyards of whom the council was composed, suggested to him that he was quite old enough to govern alone, and that he would do well to disembarrass himself of his too officious advisers. The young prince had already given proof of some sagacity and of considerable violence of temper, and he hastened to profit by the suggestions offered to him. From this moment every one trembled before the boy of thirteen. He terrified even the party which had so imprudently inspired him with the idea of liberating himself from his councillors. to Captain Chancellor, inviting him to come on to the capital. Chancellor accepted the invitation, and was brought into the presence of Ivan the Terrible. Ivan, under pretense of being a Christian, was always forming plans for making war upon the Turks, and he desired much to obtain the assistance of England toward that end. Indeed, his respect and love for England were so great that he proposed to marry Queen Elizabeth, and for some time would take no refusal. His letter containing the proposal was not, as in the case of King Theodore of AbysDirect accounts of Ivan's demeanor at sinia, left unanswered. On the contrary, court have been furnished by the English a special embassy was sent with the reply. traveller Captain Chancellor, who, in his The ambassador, Sir Jerome Bowes, gave own words, discovered" Muscovy, and some offense to the capricious monarch by various envoys and visitors from Po--neglecting, it is said, to uncover before land and Germany. But the evidence of him; upon which Ivan is reported to have his cruelties rests chiefly on the testimony ordered that the envoy's hat should be of the Russian official historian Karam-nailed to his head. As Sir Jerome lived zin, who, in dealing with the tyrant of three hundred years before, was allowed to give full vent to the indignation with which Ivan's acts could not fail to inspire him. There is in some Russian gallery a picture representing Karamzin engaged in reading his history to the Emperor Alexander, who has been much praised for his magnanimity in tolerating the historian's fearless denunciations of his infamous predecessor on the throne. "The amiable Karamzin," wrote the late Alexander Herzen, "could not think it right that Ivan should have his enemies sawn from head to foot between two boards"; nor could the liberal Alexander well object to such performances being vigorous-architect, and asked him whether he could ly denounced. But to return to Captain Chancellor, who, in the days of Edward VI., started on a voyage of discovery, bearing with him circular letters from the crown to the rulers of any strange lands that chance or inclination might lead him to visit. Like many other explorers, he found what he had not sought. He entered the White Sea, where a ship had not been seen for upward of three hundred years, cast anchor opposite the monastery of St. Nicholas, disembarked at a place where now stands the city of Archangel, and being called on by the authorities to make known his intentions, declared, with great presence of mind, that he had come to conclude a treaty of commerce between England and Russia. The news was for to return to England, and gave, on the whole, a rather favorable account of the Muscovite Tsar, it is to be presumed that the new form of capital punishment designed for him by his royal host was not inflicted. Ivan, however, possessed a grim humor, which sometimes manifested itself in a terribly tragic form. In his moments of gayety he would cause a number of persons who had or had not offended him to be wrapped up in bear-skins, and then set bear-hounds upon them to worry them to death. When the Church of St. Basil the Blessed, the most original and fantastic if not the most beautiful church in Moscow, was finished, he sent for the build another exactly like it, and receiving a triumphant answer in the affirmative, ordered the man's eyes to be put out, in order that the Church of St. Basil the Blessed might remain unique. Ivan the Terrible has been compared by a recent historian of Russia to Henry VIII. of England; and though Henry can not be fairly said to have resembled Ivan in any other respect, it is quite true that both sovereigns married more wives than custom allowed. In Russia it is permitted to wed three times—a dispensation, however, being granted to the determined marrier who, wishing to take a fourth wife, chooses a Jewess for his bride, and converts her to the Christian religion. Ivan the Terrible married no Jewess. The wife who exercised the greatest influence over |