them. Indeed, they are as sacred here as monkeys in Benares,
or doves in Venice, being considered emblems of the Holy Ghost and under
protection of the Church. They wheel about in large blue flocks through
the air, so dense as to cast shadows, like swift-moving clouds,
alighting fearlessly where they choose, to share the beggar's crumbs or
the rich man's bounty. It is a notable fact that this bird was also
considered sacred by the old Scandinavians, who believed that for a
certain period after death the soul of the deceased assumed this form to
visit and watch the behavior of the mourners.

Beggary is sadly prevalent in the streets of Moscow, the number of
maimed and wretched-looking human beings recalling the same scenes in
Spain and Italy, especially in the former country, where beggary seems
to be the occupation of one-third of the people.

CHAPTER XX.

We must travel by railway three hundred miles further towards the centre
of the empire and in a northerly direction, to reach Nijni Novgorod,
that is, Lower Novgorod, being so called to distinguish it from the
famous place of the same name located on the Volkhov, and known as
Novgorod the Great. This journey is made in the night, and the cars,
which are supposed to afford sleeping accommodations, are furnished with
reclining chairs only. However, we get along very well, and fatigue is
pretty sure to make one sleep soundly, notwithstanding the want of
inviting conveniences. Having arrived at Nijni-Novgorod early in the
morning, we find it to be a peculiar city. The residence of the governor
of the district, the courts of law, and the citadel are within the
Kremlin, where there is also a fine monument to the memory of Mininn and
Pojarski, the two patriots who liberated the country from the Poles in
1612.

The Kremlin, like that at Moscow, is situated on an elevation
overlooking the town and the broad valley of the Volga. As we view the
scene, a vast alluvial plain is spread out before the eye, covered with
fertile fields and thrifty woods, through which from northwest to
southeast flows the river, like a silver thread upon a verdant ground,
extending from horizon to horizon. On this river, the main artery of
Central Russia, are seen scores of swift-moving steamers, while a forest
of shipping is gathered about the wharves of the lower town, and also
upon the Oka River, which here joins the Volga. From this outlook we
count over two hundred steamers in sight a