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legends. The woods are believed to be inhabited by demons and
water-sprites, and peopled by invisible dwarfs and genii. They still
trust to charms and incantations for the cure of diseases, like the
Lapps and other semi-barbarians, while their rude log-cabins are but
one degree better than the habitations of these nomads. Nothing could
be more simple than the interior arrangements of their cabins, never
omitting, however, the picture of some saint, before which a lamp is
kept burning day and night. There is always a rude table, some pine
benches, and a huge stove. A wooden shelf raised a few feet from the
floor is the sleeping-place, and the bedding consists of sheep-skins,
the condition of which, long used and seldom if ever washed, may be
imagined. A painted frame-house is hardly to be seen outside of the
large towns; no peasant would aspire to such a luxury.

Forests of such density of undergrowth as to defy ingress to man
frequently line the railway for miles together; but the dull, dreary
loneliness of the way is relieved by occasional glimpses of
wild-flowers scattered along the road-side in great variety,
diffusing indescribable freshness. Among them, now and again, a tall,
glutinous, scarlet poppy would rear its gaudy head, nodding lazily in
the currents of air, and leading one to wonder how it came in such
company. A peculiar little blue-flower was frequently observed with
yellow petals, which seemed to look up from the surrounding nakedness
and desolation with the appealing expression of human eyes.
Snow-white daisies and the delicate little hare-bell came also into
view at intervals, struggling for a brief, sad existence, unless the
elfin crew consoled them beneath the moon's pale ray. We must not
fail to mention that the stations are beautified by floral displays
of no mean character. It seems that professional gardeners travel on
the line, remaining long enough at each place to organize the skilful
culture of garden-plants by the keeper's family during the summer
season; but it made one shudder to imagine what must be the aspect of
this region during the long frost-locked Russian winter.

On reaching Tver we crossed the Volga by a high iron bridge,--one of
the greatest rivers of the world, the Mississippi of Russia. The
average traveller does not stop at Tver any longer than is necessary
for the purpose of the railroad officials, but it is a considerable
and rising place, especially since the railroad