[Dedicated by the Translator to those sceptics who clamour so loudly, both in print and private letters-Show us the wonder-working Brothers, let them come out publicly-and we will believe in them!] [The following is an extract from M. Dostoevskys celebrated novel, The Brothers Karamazof, the last publication from the pen of the great Russian novelist, who died a few months ago, just as the concluding chapters appeared in print. Dostoevsky is beginning to be recognized as one of the ablest and profoundest among Russian writers. His characters are invariably typical portraits drawn from various classes of Russian society, strikingly life-like and realistic to the highest degree. The following extract is a cutting satire on modern theology generally and the Roman Catholic religion in particular. The idea is that Christ revisits earth, coming to Spain at the period of the Inquisition, and is at once arrested as a heretic by the Grand Inquisitor. One of the three brothers of the story, Ivan, a rank materialist and an atheist of the new school, is supposed to throw this conception into the form of a poem, which he describes to Alyosha-the youngest of the brothers, a young Christian mystic brought up by a saint in a monastery-as follows: (-Ed. Theosophist, Nov., 1881)] Quite impossible, as you see, to start without an introduction, laughed Ivan. Well, then, I mean to place the event described in the poem in the sixteenth century, an age-as you must have been told at school-when it was the great fashion among poets to make the denizens and powers of higher worlds descend on earth and mix freely with mortals... In France all the notaries clerks, and the monks in the cloisters as well, used to give grand performances, dramatic plays in which long scenes were enacted by the Madonna, the angels, the saints, Christ, and even by God Himself. In those days, everything was very artless and primitive. An instance of it may be found in Victor Hugos drama, Notre Dame de Paris, where, at the Municipal Hall, a play called Le Bon Jugement de la Tres-sainte et Gracieuse Vierge Marie, is enacted in honour of Louis XI, in which the Virgin appears personally to pronounce her good judgment. In Moscow, during the prepetrean period, performances of nearly the same character, chosen especially from the Old Testament, were also in great favour. Apart from such plays, the world was overflooded with mystical writings, verses-the heroes of which were always selected from the ranks of angels, saints and other heavenly citizens answering to the devotional purposes of the age. The recluses of our monasteries, like the Roman Catholic monks, passed their time in translating, copying, and even producing original compositions upon such subjects, and that, remember, during the Tarter period!... In this connection, I am reminded of a poem compiled in a convent-a translation from the Greek, of course-called, The Travels of the Mother of God among the Damned, with fitting illustrations and a boldness of conception inferior nowise to that of Dante. The Mother of God visits hell, in company with the archangel Michael as her cicerone to guide her through the legions of the damned. She sees them all, and is witness to their multifarious tortures. Among the many other exceedingly remarkably varieties of torments-every category of sinners having its own-there is one especially worthy of notice, namely a class of the damned sentenced to gradually sink in a burning lake of brimstone and fire. Those whose sins cause them to sink so low that they no longer can rise to the surface are for ever forgotten by God, i.e., they fade out from the omniscient memory, says the poem-an expression, by the way, of an extraordinary profundity of thought, when closely analysed. The Virgin is terribly shocked, and falling down upon her knees in tears before the throne of God, begs that all she has seen in hell-all