After taking a bath, Chaliapin would go home. He would drop by ‘Filippov’s’ and buy baranki or kalachi and by ‘Belov’s’ to get two pounds of pressed caviar. He would drink tea wearing his robe. He would put kalachi and baranki on the samovar’s top ring, empty the whole samovar and eat all the caviar.

A carriage pulled by a pair of horses was usually brought around to the cottage early in the morning… The carriage was occupied by guests and the younger children, our parents sat in a tarantass, and we, the elder children, climbed into a cart loaded with various parcels, a samovar and dishware. At last, we would set off. Most often, we went to our favorite place called ‘the Precipice’, where nature was remarkably picturesque. The high bank of the Nerl River was very steep. The river, winding through meadows, seemed to vanish amid a pine forest in the distance. The air smelled of needles, flowers and sedges. A huge tablecloth was laid right on the grass, and on it we put everything we brought along. Setting the samovar was our favorite thing to do. We gathered dried cones, and my father chopped wood into kindling, lit it, put it inside the samovar and, covering the top with a boot, blew into the samovar to make the fire stronger. Sitting on the grass around the samovar, we were relishing village sweets and hot tea…

Yet the most interesting among his possessions were the two landscape paintings which were a gift from a friend. He treated them with care and brought them along. He was also proud of his samovar, which he had won in a lottery for twenty kopecks.