THE CROCODILE A true story of how a gentleman of a certain age and of respectable appearance was swallowed alive by the crocodile in the arcade and of the consequences that followed. 1. On the 13th of January of this present year, 1865, at half past twelve in the day, Elena Ivanovna, the wife of my cultured friend Ivan Matvej, who is a colleague in the same department and may be said to be a distant relation of mine too, expressed the desire to see the crocodile, now on view at a fixed charge, in the arcade. 2. As Ivan Matvej had already in his pocket his ticket for a tour abroad, not so much for the sake of his health as for the improvement of his mind, and was consequently free from his official duties and had nothing whatever to do that morning, he offered no objection to his wife's irresistible fancy, but was positively aflame with curiosity himself. 3. A capital idea, he said, with the utmost satisfaction. We'll have a look at the crocodile. On the eve of visiting Europe it is as well to acquaint ourselves on the spot with its indigenous inhabitants. 4. And with these words, taking his wife's arm, he set off with her at once for the arcade. I join them, as I usually do, being an intimate friend of the family. I have never seen Ivan Matvej in a more agreeable frame of mind than he was on that memorable morning. How true it is that we know not beforehand the fate that awaits us. 5. On entering the arcade he was at once full of admiration for the splendours of the building, and when we reached the shop in which the monster lately arrived in Petersburg was being exhibited, he volunteered to pay the quarter ruble for me to the crocodile owner. A thing which had never happened before. 6. Walking into a little room we observed that besides the crocodile there were, in it, parrots of the species known as cockatoo, and also a group of monkeys in a special case, in a recess. Near the entrance, along the left wall, stood a big tin tank that looked like a bath covered with a thin iron grating, filled with water to the depth of two inches. In the shallow pool was kept a huge crocodile. 7. Which lay like a log, absolutely motionless and apparently deprived of all its faculties by our damp climate, so inhospitable to foreign visitors. This monster at first aroused no special interest in any one of us. So this is the crocodile, said Elena Ivanovna, with a pathetic cadence of regret. Why, I thought it was something different. Most probably she thought it was made of diamonds. The owner of the crocodile, a German, came out and looked at us with an air of extraordinary pride. He has a right to be, Ivan Matveich whispered to me. He knows he's the only man in