Now it’s time to look at the second book, or rather the last book, rather than the second!　I’m sorry, but I’m not at all willing to make this public.
In fact, it’s about time I learned my lesson. As a matter of fact, even in the village, they are starting to laugh at me. The old man has become a complete old geezer. He is so happy to have made up such a childish trick, taking advantage of his advanced age! I guess. It was quite right, and he should have retired and settled down in peace.

You may think, dear readers, that I am intentionally acting senile by saying this, but why would I want to act senile now that I no longer have a single tooth in my mouth! 　Nowadays, if I hit something soft, I can manage to eat it, but if I hit something a little harder, I can’t even chew it through. Anyway, I’ll see you again with a copy of this book! 　But please don’t rub me down over my head! 　It’s not nice to say goodbye to someone, especially to someone you have no way of knowing when you will see them again. Now, in this book, I would like to present you with stories of speakers who are mostly new to you, with the exception of one, Foma Grigorievich. We have not heard a word from the nobleman with the pea-colored undergarment, who spoke in an awkward way that most of the brightest and most intelligent people in the world would find difficult to swallow. He had stopped coming to our village since he got into a fight with us all. Oh yes, did I ever tell you about that? 　No, there was a very funny incident. Last summer, I think it was the day of my name day celebration, we had many visitors to our house. …… (I must mention here that thankfully, the locals did not forget to visit this old man. I am grateful that the local people do not forget to visit me, an old man. It has been fifty years since I began to remember the date of my birth, but neither I nor my grandmother can tell you exactly how old I am. At any rate, I must be close to seventy years old. (I could find out my date of birth by asking Reverend Harulampyi, the priest of Dhikarnika, but alas, he has been dead for 50 years now.) Well, then, the guests were Zakhar Kirillovich Chukhopenko, Stepan Ivanovich Kurochka, Taras Ivanovich Smatinnykhii, the juror Harlamupii Kirillovich Frosta, and many more! ……, I’ve completely forgotten the name. …… Orship. …… Orship and…

Yes, he’s really a nobody in Milgorod! 　And the man has a habit of snapping his fingers first and then putting his hands on his hips when he speaks. …… No, I don’t care about that man! 　I’m sure I’ll remember him some other time. By the way, the nobleman you all know and love came back from Poltava. Not to mention Foma Grigorievich, who is now as much a part of our family as if he were one of our own. We all had a great time talking. (I must also say that I can’t remember the last time a trivial topic came out of our mouths, and I always like to talk about things that are civilized, funny and instructive.) –We were discussing how to pickle apples in salt. The old woman was about to proceed by saying, “First you have to clean the apples well, then soak them in muddy barley wine, and now you have to say something like, ‘What’s the use of doing that? What’s the use of doing that? The teacher, wearing a pea-colored undergarment with one hand thrust into her chest, paced the room heavily, and interrupted the old woman’s speech.

That’s not going to help! 　First and foremost, you need to sprinkle the leaves of the water gold phoenix alternately, and only after that, you will be able to get the ………” Now, I would like to ask the readers if they have ever heard of sprinkling goldenseal leaves into apples, and I would like to hear your impartial opinion! 　Well, yes, they may put in some kinds of things such as Japanese cucumber leaves, but soaking them in something like water chestnuts. …… No, I have never heard of such a thing. I’ve never heard of such a thing. I’m afraid there is no one who knows more about such things than my grandmother. Now, by the way, what do you think! 　I pulled this man up to my side like he was a man of the world and said to him, “Look here, Makar Nazarovich, don’t you dare to say such a thing about what you have done! 　You are a fine man, and you yourself said that you once had dinner with the governor at the same table. You know, people will laugh at you if you talk nonsense like that. I used to warn him like this.

By the way, what do you think he said in response? 　Not a single word of reply! 　He simply spit on the floor, grabbed his hat, and without a word of greeting or a nod to any of you, he simply flew out of the room. All we could hear was the sound of a carriage going out toward the gate, ringing its bell. After we got on the carriage, it left without a trace. That was good for us after all! 　We have no use for such a customer! 　No, there is nothing worse in the world than a famous person. The man’s uncle used to be a police inspector or something, and that’s why he’s so arrogant. I don’t like such a famous person. Look at Foma Grigorievich, for example. He is not a famous person, but if you look closely at him, you can see a certain dignity in his face. Even when you look at the way he starts sniffing an ordinary cigarette, you can see that he is a man of virtue who naturally bows down to you. It is hard to describe how moved I am when I see him standing in the podium and singing hymns of praise in the church hall! 　It’s as if my physique is melting away! ……By the way, I don’t give a damn about that ……, or him! 　He must be so smug that he can’t go any further if he can’t get his own story in. But, you know what, I’ve already written a whole book on this very subject. Muddled barley wine is a kind of home beverage brewed from rye malt, containing a light alcohol content similar to beer, and is generally enjoyed by Russians.

Now, I am sure I promised you that I would add my own story to this book. In fact, that was my intention, but I realized that my story would take up at least three volumes of this book. I thought about publishing it as a separate volume, but then I changed my mind. I know very well that you will laugh at this old man. No, I’ll have no more of that! 　Have a good day! 　You won’t be seeing me again for a while, or forever. What does it matter? 　It would be the same to you all if I had never existed in the world. I am sure that after a year or two, not one of you will remember or grieve for the old bee keeper, Ludwig Panikó, in later years. –The year is 1832.