* * * * *

A dream of a keeper in the zoological gardens.  He dreams that there was presented to the Zoo first a marmot, then an emu, then a vulture, then a she-goat, then another emu; the presentations are made without end and the Zoo is crowded out—­the keeper wakes up in horror wet with perspiration.

* * * * *

“To harness slowly but drive rapidly is in the nature of this people,” said Bismarck.

* * * * *

When an actor has money, he doesn’t send letters but telegrams.

* * * * *

With insects, out of the caterpillar comes the butterfly; with mankind it is the other way round, out of the butterfly comes the caterpillar.[1]

[Footnote 1:  There is a play on words here, the Russian word for butterfly also means a woman.]

* * * * *

The dogs in the house became attached not to their masters who fed and fondled them, but to the cook, a foreigner, who beat them.

* * * * *

Sophie was afraid that her dog might catch cold, because of the draught.

* * * * *

The soil is so good, that, were you to plant a shaft, in a year’s time a cart would grow out of it.

* * * * *

X. and Z., very well educated and of radical views, married.  In the evening they talked together pleasantly, then quarreled, then came to blows.  In the morning both are ashamed and surprised, they think that it must have been the result of some exceptional state of their nerves.  Next night again a quarrel and blows.  And so every night until at last they realize that they are not at all educated, but savage, just like the majority of people.

* * * * *

A play:  in order to avoid having visitors, Z. pretends to be a regular tippler, although he drinks nothing.

* * * * *

When children appear on the scene, then we justify all our weaknesses, our compromises, and our snobbery, by saying:  “It’s for the children’s sake.”

* * * * *

Count, I am going away to Mordegundia. (A land of horrible faces.)

* * * * *

Barbara Nedotyopin.

* * * * *

Z., an engineer or doctor, went on a visit to his uncle, an editor; he became interested, began to go there frequently; then became a contributor to the paper, little by little gave up his profession; one night he came out of the newspaper office, remembered, and seized his head in his hands—­“all is lost!” He began to go gray.  Then it became a habit, he was quite white now and flabby, an editor, respectable but obscure.

* * * * *