WITH COUNT TOLSTOY 75 



efforts to make the fellow understand that I 

 wished him to give the letter to the station- 

 master, I succeeded in my purpose. The station- 

 master came to me, a fine-looking, tall gentleman, 

 with a military bearing and a most kindly face. 

 The letter evidently contained information con- 

 cerning my mission in Russia, for never before was 

 I the recipient of such a profusion of kind atten- 

 tions even from friends, not to mention strangers. 

 Calling servants, the station-master delivered to 

 one my coat, to another my hand baggage, to a third 

 an order for supper, and telling me in imperfect Eng- 

 lish that I must wait for my train three hours or 

 until midnight, he led me to the station restaurant 

 a first-class establishment, ordered a good supper, 

 opened a bottle of 'Roderer, " and as we sat to- 

 gether, took the liveliest interest in all I could 

 tell him of what America was doing for Russia's 

 starving peasants. Again and again touched by 

 some allusion, he rose to his feet, extended his 

 arm across the table and gave me a hearty hand- 

 shake. The lunch over, he took me to his house, 

 introduced me to his peasant cook in the kitchen, 

 showed me over the house, proudly pointed to 

 photographs of his wife, who at the time, with her 



