ose of my Journey-Negotiations-The Road-A Village-A

n exhaust the reader's patience. I should have to take him with me to a secluded village, and make him wait for me till I had learned to speak the language. Thence he would have to accompany me to a provincial town, and spend months in a public office, whilst I endeavoured to master the mysteries of local self-government. After this he would have to spend two

scription of the more striking objects and incidents that came under my notice. The knowledge which

for many reasons to leave the description of the capital till some f

supplied with water in the form of rivers, lakes, and marshes, and broken up by numerous patches of cultivation. The southern half is, as it were, the other side of the pattern-an immense expanse of rich, arable land, broken up by occasional pa

even a person of antediluvian longevity might spend all his life in that city without learning to express himself fluently in the vernacular-especially if he has the misfortune of being able to speak English, French, and German. With his friends and associates he speaks French or English. German serves as a medium of communication with waiters, shop keepers, and other people of

nts. This proposal I at once adopted, and accordingly found myself one morning at a small station of the Moscow Railway, endeavouring to explain to a peasant in sheep's clothing that I wished to be conveyed to Ivanofka, the village where my future teacher lived. At that time I still spoke Russ

ussia, as in other countries, the peasantry when speaking with strange

ka," I

ow

ow

h I did not understand, but which I assumed to mean that he was

es. Ho

athematical calculation. Gradually the look of concentrated attention gave place to an expression such as children assume when they ende

of a war indemnity had been the subject of discussion. Three times he drove away and three times returned. Each time he abated his pretensions, and each time I slightly increased my offer. At last

, and at least during the first half of the journey I was constantly reminded of that stage in the work of creation when the water was not yet separated from the dry land. During the few moments when the work of keeping my balance and preventing my baggage from being lost did not engross all my attention, I speculated on the possibility of inventing a boat-carriage, to be drawn by some amphibious quadruped. Fortunately our two lean, wiry little horses did not object to being used as aquatic animals. They

a village, I could not refuse to let them have some rest and refreshm

ning space. All the houses turned their gables to the passerby, and some of them had pretensions to architectural decoration in the form of rude perforated woodwork. Between the houses, and in a line

id, in an inte

word "friend." Evidently there was no hostelry for man and beast in

ow some light on the agriculture of the primitive Aryans, and on the other side by the dwelling-house and sta

s the scene was new to me, I noted the principal objects. In the wall before me were two small square windows looking out upon the road, and in the corner to the right, nearer to the ceiling than to the floor, was a little triangular shelf, on which stood a religious picture. Before the picture hung a curious oil lamp. In the corner to the left of the door was a gigantic stove, built of

d. I was considerably astonished by this apparition, for the air in the room was stifling, and I had some difficulty in believing that any created being-except perhaps a salamander or a neg

ng slowly, wondering

ill!" sighe

in an "aside." "If I were lying on the s

" I remarked, i

rk astonished me all the more as I noticed that the body

ointed time. Hour after hour he sits placidly on the box, and though the cold be of an intensity such as is never experienced in our temperate climate, he can sleep as tranquilly as the lazzaroni at midday in Naples. In that respect the Russian peasant seems to be first-cousin to the polar bear, but, unlike the animals of t

the morning service on Sunday. Many villages possess a public or communal bath of the most primitive construction, but in some parts of the country-I am not sure how far the practice extends-the peasants take their vapour-bath in the household oven in which the bread is baked! In all cases the operation is pushed to the extreme limit of human endurance-far beyond the utmost limit that can be endured by those who have not been accustomed to it from childhood. For my own part,

d, by breaking a hole in the ice and immersing a cross with certain religious rites, he should plunge into the hole as soon as possible after the ceremony. I remember once at Yaroslavl, on the Volga, two young peasants successfully accomplished this feat-though the police have orders to prevent it-and escaped, apparently without evil consequences, though the Fahrenheit thermometer was below zero. How far the custom has really a purifying influence, is a question which must be left to theologians; but even an ordinary mortal can understand that, if it be regarded as a penance, it must have a certain deterrent effect. The man who fore

could only vaguely guess, for I did not understand more than ten per cent of the words used, but I assumed from the tone and gestures that he was relating to me all the incidents and symptoms of his illness. And a v

f laborious explanation I was made to understand that I could have eggs, black bread, and milk, and we agreed that there should be

s were not very highly flavoured; and the black rye-bread, strongly intermixed with sand, could be eaten by a peculiar and easily-acquired method of ma

be got, and afforded the possibility of varying the bill of fare. The favourite materials employed in the native cookery are sour cabbage, cucumbers

decidedly better, though it was traversed by numerous half-buried roots, which produced violent jolts. From the conv

lary the object of my visit, was not to be thought of. On the other hand, there was no inn of any kind in the vicinity. When I consulted the driver as to what was to be done, he meditated for a little, and then pointed to a large house at s

ple among whom my lot happened to be cast. But there was a more serious difficulty. The priest's family had, as is generally the case with priests' families, been rapidly increasing during the last few years, and his house had not been growing with equal rapidity. The natural consequence of this was that he had not a room or a bed to spare. The little room which he had formerly kept for occasional visitors was now occupied by his eldest daughter, who had returned from a "s

end teacher and one or two other personages who