One of some two hundred stories by Anton Chekhov that were published originally in periodicals in Russia in the 1880s–1900s but unpublished in English.

 

Chekhov considers the merits of alcohol and school. And draws humorous correlations.

Don’t trust those Judas Iscariots, those chameleons! In our day faith is easier to lose than an old glove—and I’ve lost it!

In the opinion of well-read governesses and educated governors’ wives, the soul is an indeterminable entity of psychological substance. I have no reason to disagree with this.

The other day I stopped to see a friend, the journalist Misha Kovrov. He was sitting on his couch, cleaning his fingernails and drinking tea.

  That civilization, in addition to its benefits, has also brought humanity terrible harm, no one now doubts. Doctors especially insist on it, not unreasonably locating in progress the source of those nervous disorders which have been observed wit…