The Russian people are
really a warm-hearted people. Besides, one enjoys life in Russia
better than here. Oh, a thousand times better. There is too much
materialism here, too much hurry and too much prose, and--yes,
too much machinery. It's all very well to make shoes or bread by
machinery, but alas! the things of the spirit, too, seem to be
machine-made in America. If my younger children were not so
attached to this country and did not love it so, and if I could make
a living in Russia now, I should be ready to go back at once."
"'Comfort ye, comfort ye, my people, saith your God,'" I quoted,
gaily.
"It's all a matter of mood. Poets are men of moods." And again I
quoted, "'Attend unto me, O my friend, and give ear unto me, O
my comrade.'" I took up the cudgels for America
He listened gloomily, leaving my arguments unanswered. By way
of broaching the subject of his daughter I steered my talk to a
point that gave me a chance to refer to his little "meditation," "My
Children." "How well you do remember my poor little volumes,"
he said, greatly flattered.
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