them in sensational and declamatory language, he treated them in a style that sometimes seemed almost cold in its reticence and freedom from passion.  The various sketches of which the volume was composed appeared at intervals in a Russian magazine, called the Contemporary (Sovremennik), about three-and-twenty years ago, and were read in it with avidity; but when the first edition of the collected work was exhausted, the censors refused to grant permission to the author to print a second, and so for many years the complete book was not to be obtained in Russia without great difficulty.  Now that the good fight of emancipation has been fought, and the victory—­thanks to the present Emperor—­has been won, M. Turgenieff has every reason for looking back with pride upon that phase of the struggle; and his countrymen may well have a feeling of regard, as well as of respect, for him—­the upper-classes as for one who has helped them to recognize their duty; the lower, as for a very generous supporter in their time of trouble.

M. Turgenieff has written a great number of very charming short stories, most of them having reference to Russia and Russian life; for though he has lived in Germany for many years, his thoughts, whenever he takes up his pen, almost always seem to go back to his native land.  Besides these, as well as a number of critical essays, plays, and poems, he has brought out several novels, or rather novelettes, for none of them have attained to three-volume dimensions.  Of these, the most remarkable are the one I have now translated, which appeared about eleven years ago, and the two somewhat polemical stories, called “Fathers and Children” (Otsui i Dyeti) and “Smoke” (Duim).  The first of the three I may leave to speak for itself, merely adding that I trust that—­although it appears under all the disadvantages by which even the most conscientious of translations must always be attended—­it may be looked upon by English readers with somewhat of the admiration which I have long felt for the original, on account of the artistic finish of its execution, the purity of its tone, and the delicacy and the nobleness of the sentiment by which it is pervaded.

The story of “Fathers and Children” conveys a vigorous and excessively clever description of the change that has taken place of late years in the thoughts and feelings of the educated classes of Russian society One of the most interesting chapters in “Liza”—­one which may be skipped by readers who care for nothing but incident in a story—­describes a conversation which takes place between the hero and one of his old college friends.  The sketch of the disinterested student, who has retained in mature life all the enthusiasm of his college days, is excellent, and is drawn in a very kindly spirit.  But in “Fathers and Children” an exaggeration of this character is introduced, serving as a somewhat scare-crow-like embodiment of the excessively hard thoughts and very irreverent