The morning call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1878-1895, 1892-07-31

doubled over the side OF the sheet, leaving
margin OF two inches at the ends of the
lines.
He likes small sheets Of paper arranged
like this" she said, land copy only on one
side of the page. He corrects on the mar
gin and sometimes on the other side of the
page. He always uses pen In his writing,
and never has any doubt as to the work
until 1t is completed, when, from being en-
thusiastic, he becomes discouraged and as
satisfied. One of the greatest regrets OF nis
life to-day is that he has wasted. as ne chIis
il, much of his time in writing movers. an
he refers TO his novels as that non nemS ,',,or
docs he ever speak of Inc AIeu, z'.
Sonata and Is he, rs has been lep0i'0u' "A'
ing a sequel 10 itp" IF, a.
has no inten ton of writing anything more
along those lines. He sad To me. speaking
| of the 'KreutZer Sonata. not long ago;
please don't mention that disgusting story
again: / am sick of hearing about it, /
| don't think he will write another novel. He
| is deyoting himself TO philosophical essays
upon his ocular ideas of what so iety and
| life should be, and he regards fiction as
nonsense and folly. He is now working
! on large treatise against war aud IN favor
| OF Matchmaking society AID government
! He thinks the world is all wrong and he is
| doing what he can to help set it right AS
| for myself think it is great mistake, and
| / tell him so. His forte, it seems to me, is
I
| / have urged him TO continue in fiction and
| to put forth his ideas, if he would advocate
! them, In great novel that would stir meas
! souls and make them think as be does. III
! he would do this he could accomplish more
| for his cause than by his Philosophical es-
says. He thinks. however, differently. and
we must be content.
I'm order to understand my husband and
| his works" the Countess Iolstol went on,
| ''yOu must not look upon him as he Is to-
| "A III Ia so ID If Il
DDS and he is different man now than he
/ has been in the past. Until about 10 or II
| years ago he had what might be called an
almost ideas lHH-ary life, during which his
| best novels were written, when both HIM
| self and his family were resperous and
| happy, and when his life was fol- OF enjoy
| ment Leisure and hard work. DuI.ug this
| timA he was interested in everything that All )
| practical man of the world is interested in.
| de devoted himself to his family, to the
management Of his estates. and found
plenty Of time for writing. He slept well
| and had leisure for everything He was in
terested in his children's studies and even
mastered the Greek language that he might
| aid our Oldest boy in the study OF It. de
| delighted in society and our life was full OF
| happiness. Then all at once he changed.
| The things he liked best became disgusting
| TO him. He reversed the opera-glasses and
the big things of his former life dwindled
| Into nothing. He began to study the church,
humbled himself and led the life of peas
| ant. From the writing of fiction he turned
to philosophy and ethics, and In short his
| whole nature became different and he was
| another man"
Then there are two TOlstois ?" said l.
"TwOP replied the Countess. There
are not only two; there are hundred The
| Count changes every day, and you can
| never tell what he will be next. He is
| earnest and honest In his beliefs and he is
| almost forced TO do what he thinks to be
| right. lie is more comfortable now ia his
| habits OF lie than he was some years ago.
| Then he wanted 10 give up everything 10
| the poor aud have us all live as peasants do.
| He does not believe that one has any right
| to more than another, and with him to be-
| lieye is to do l would net consent TO this,
| however. l must have my children edu-
| Gated. and | said that our life must be a
| civilized enc. He then refused to have any,
| thing 10 do with his property or his estates
| and for time he went on IN his
/ way and We IN ours, accommo dating
! ourselves as best we could to him. He
was at first irritable and would ask why |
persisted In teaching the children French
| ana having them goyerneSses for English
| and German. He looked upon our talk and
| oar lie as artificial nonsense, and his irri-
! tation from this of course affected his writ
| ing. For time the children feared to talk
| among themselves In his presence lest the
| subjects OF their conversation would offend
| him, and then-for they ali love aud admire
| hlm-we were very unhappy. Of late years,
| however, be has been more tolerant. he
| thinks we are wrong. but be permits US 10
lead our LIE and he leads his conforming