Letters of Anton Chekhov (Tchekhov) - Penn State University

Letters of Anton Chekhov to His Family and Friends with biographical sketchFROM THE STEAMER, Evening, April 24, 1890.MY DEAR TUNGUSES!I am floating on the Kama, but I can’t fix the exact locality; Ibelieve we are near Tchistopol. I cannot extol the beauties of thescenery either, as it is hellishly cold; the birches are not yet out,there are still patches of snow here and there, bits of ice float by—inshort, the picturesque has gone to the dogs. I sit in the cabin, wherepeople of all sorts and conditions sit at the table, and listen to theconversation, wondering whether it is not time for me to have tea.If I had my way I should do nothing all day but eat; as I haven’t themoney to be eating all day long I sleep and sleep. I don’t go up ondeck, it’s cold. By night it rains and by day there is an unpleasantwind.Oh, the caviare! I eat it and eat and never have enough.… It is a pity I did not think to get myself a little bag for tea andsugar. I have to order it a glass at a time, which is tiresome andexpensive. I meant to buy some tea and sugar to-day at Kazan, butI over-slept myself.Rejoice, O mother! I believe I stop twenty-four hours atEkaterinburg, and shall see the relations. Perhaps their hearts maybe softened and they will give me three roubles and an ounce of tea.From the conversation I am listening to at this moment, I gatherthat the members of a judicial tribunal are travelling with me. Theyare not gifted persons. The merchants, who put in their word fromtime to time seem, however, intelligent. One comes across fearfullyrich people.Sterlets are cheaper than mushrooms; you soon get sick of them.What more is there for me to write about? There is nothing ….There is a General, though, and a lean fair man. The former keepsdashing from his cabin to the deck and back again, and sending hisphotograph off somewhere; the latter is got up to look like Nadson,and tries thereby to give one to know that he is a writer. Today hewas mendaciously telling a lady that he had a book published bySuvorin; I, of course, put on an expression of awe.My money is all safe, except what I have eaten. They won’t feedme for nothing, the scoundrels.140