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24. “This signifies,” remarks one of our critics, “that the urchins are skating.” Right. >>

25. In my rosy years
   the poetical Ay
   pleased me with its noisy foam,
 4 with this simile of love,
   or of frantic youth.
(“Epistle to L. P.”) >>

26. August Lafontaine, author of numerous family novels. >>

27. See “First Snow,” a poem by Prince Vyazemski. >>

28. See the descriptions of the Finnish winter in Baratïnski's “Eda.” >>

29. Tomcat calls Kit
   to sleep in the stove nook.

The presage of a wedding; the first song foretells death. >>

30. In this manner one finds out the name of one's future fiancé. >>

31. Reviewers condemned the words hlop [clap], molv' [parle], and top [stamp] as indifferent neologisms. These words are fundamentally Russian. “Bova stepped out of the tent for some fresh air and heard in the open country the parle of man and the stamp of steed” (“The Tale of Bova the Prince”). Hlop and ship are used in plain-folk speech instead of hlópanie [clapping] and shipénie [hissing]:

“he let out a hiss of the snaky sort”
(Ancient Russian Poems).

One should not interfere with the freedom of our rich and beautiful language. >>

32. One of our critics, it would seem, finds in these lines an indecency incomprehensible to us. >>

33. Divinatory books in our country come out under the imprint of Martin Zadeck — a worthy person who never wrote divinatory books, as B. M. Fyodorov observes. >>

34. A parody of Lomonosov's well-known lines:

   Aurora with a crimson hand
   from morning stilly waters
   leads forth with the sun after her, etc. >>
35. . . . . . . . . . . .Buyanov, my neighbor,
    . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
   called yesterday on me: mustache unshaven,
 4 tousled, fluff-covered, wearing a peaked cap.
(The Dangerous Neighbor) >>

36. Our critics, faithful admirers of the fair sex, strongly blamed the indecorum of this verse. >>

37. Parisian restaurateur. >>

38. Griboedov's line. >>

39. A famous arms fabricator. >>

40. In the first edition Chapter Six ended in the following:

   And you, young inspiration,
   stir my imagination,
   the slumber of the heart enliven,
 8 into my nook more often fly,
   let not a poet's soul grow cold,
   callous, crust-dry,
   and finally be turned to stone
12 in the World's deadening intoxication,
   amidst the soulless proudlings,
   amidst the brilliant fools,
   amidst the crafty, the fainthearted,
   crazy, spoiled children,
   villains both ludicrous and dull,
 4 obtuse, caviling judges;
   amidst devout coquettes;
   amidst the voluntary lackeys;
   amidst the daily modish scenes,
 8 courtly, affectionate betrayals;
   amidst hardhearted vanity's
   cold verdicts;
   amidst the vexing emptiness
12 of schemes, of thoughts and conversations;
   in that slough where with you
   I bathe, dear friends! >>

41. Lyovshin, author of numerous works on rural econ omy. >>

42. Our roads are for the eyes a garden:
   trees, ditches, and a turfy bank;
   much toil, much glory,
 4 but, sad to say, no passage now and then.
   The trees that stand like sentries
   bring little profit to the travelers;
   the road, you'll say, is fine,
 8 but you'll recall the verse: “for passers-by!”
   Driving in Russia is unhampered
   on two occasions only:
   when our McAdam — or McEve — winter —
12 accomplishes, crackling with wrath,
   its devastating raid
   and with ice's cast-iron armors roads
   while powder snow betimes
16 as if with fluffy sand covers the tracks;
   or when the fields are permeated
   with such a torrid drought
   that with eyes closed a fly
20 can ford a puddle.
(The Station, by Prince Vyazemski) >>

43. A simile borrowed from K., so well known for the playfulness of his fancy. K. related that, being one day sent as courier by Prince Potyomkin to the Empress, he drove so fast that his épée, one end of which stuck out of his carriage, rattled against the verstposts as along a palisade. >>

44. Rout [Eng.], an evening assembly without dances; means properly crowd [tolpa]. >>