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Letters of Anton Chekhov by Anton Pavlovich Chekhov
page 328 of 423 (77%)
April 15, 1894.


... I have come back from the flaming Tavrida and am already sitting on the
cool banks of my pond. It's very warm, however: the thermometer runs up to
twenty-six....

I am busy looking after the land: I am making new avenues, planting
flowers, chopping down dead trees, and chasing the hens and the dogs out of
the garden. Literature plays the part of Erakit, who was always in the
background. I don't want to write, and indeed, it's hard to combine a
desire to live and a desire to write....




TO A. S. SUVORIN.

MELIHOVO,
April 21, 1894


Of course it is very nice in the country; in fine weather Russia is an
extraordinarily beautiful and enchanting country, especially for those who
have been born and spent their childhood in the country. But you will never
buy yourself an estate, as you don't know what you want. To like an estate
you must make up your mind to buy it; so long as it is not yours it will
seem comfortless and full of defects. My cough is considerably better, I am
sunburnt, and they tell me I am fatter, but the other day I almost fell
down and I fancied for a minute that I was dying. I was walking along the
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