acquaintances had prepared him such an ovation that it seemed
to him that he really had been of very great service to his country,
and that if he had never existed his country would perhaps have
been in a very bad way. The jubilee dinner was made up of toasts,
speeches, and tears. In short, Zhmyhov had never expected that his
merits would be so warmly appreciated.

"Gentlemen!" he said before the dessert, "two hours ago I was
recompensed for all the sufferings a man has to undergo who is the
servant, so to say, not of routine, not of the letter, but of duty!
Through the whole duration of my service I have constantly adhered
to the principle;--the public does not exist for us, but we for
the public, and to-day I received the highest reward! My subordinates
presented me with an album . . . see! I was touched."

Festive faces bent over the album and began examining it.

"It's a pretty album," said Zhmyhov's daughter Olya, "it must have
cost fifty roubles, I do believe. Oh, it's charming! You must give
me the album, papa, do you hear? I'll take care of it, it's so
pretty."

After dinner Olya carried off the album to her room and shut it up
in her table drawer. Next day she took the clerks out of it, flung
them on the floor, and put her school friends in their place. The
government uniforms made way for white pelerines. Kolya, his
Excellency's little son, picked up the clerks and painted their
clothes red. Those who had no moustaches he presented with green
moustaches and added brown beards to the beardless. When there was
nothing left to paint he cut the little men out of the card-board,
pricked their eyes with a pin, and began playing soldiers with them.
After cutting out the titular councillor Kraterov, he fixed him on
a match-box and carried him in that state to his father's study.

"Papa, a monument, look!"

Zhmyhov burst out laughing, lurched forward, and, looking tenderly
at the child, gave him a warm kiss on the cheek.

"There, you rogue, go and show mamma; let mamma look too."

OH! THE PUBLIC

"HERE goes, I've done with drinking! Nothing. . . n-o-thing shall
tempt me to it. It's time to take myself in hand; I must buck up
and work. . . You're glad to get your salary, so you must do your
work honestly, heartily, conscientiously, regardless of sleep and
comfort. Chuck taking it easy. You've got into the way of taking a
salary for nothing, my boy--that's not the right thing . . . not
the right thing at a