Complete Works of Anton Chekhov

To-day there is rain and Lake Baikal is plunged in mist. “Interesting,” Semaskho would say. It’s dull. One ought to sit down and write, but one can never work in bad weather. One has a foreboding of merciless boredom; if I were alone I should not mind but there are two lieutenants and an army doctor with me, who are fond of talking and arguing. They don’t understand much but they talk about everything. One of the lieutenants, moreover, is a bit of a Hlestakov and a braggart. When one is travelling one absolutely must be alone. To sit in a chaise or in a room alone with one’s thoughts is much more interesting than being with people.

* * * * *

Congratulate me: I sold my own carriage at Irkutsk. How much I gained on it I won’t say, or mother would fall into a faint and not sleep for five nights.

  Your Homo Sachaliensis,

  A. CHEKHOV.

TO HIS MOTHER.

STEAMER “YERMAK,”

June 20, 1890.

Greeting, dear ones at home!