My father was a man of the old time, said Anton Feodorovich Kolchugin, "though thanks, first to God and second to his parents, he had the wealth of a noble, and might have lived no worse than his neighbours — that is, he might have built a stone mansion ninety feet long, kept hounds, had -^ an orchestra of his own, a conservatory, " While brooding over these questions drowsiness came on him, his eyes began to close, his head grew heavy, and he told me that he did not remember himself how he dropped on the sofa and fell asleep soundly. "My friends”, said he, turning to the Cossacks, “what are