f the hill,) at the extremity of which rises a similar hill, facing
towards the first, but a little on one side, so that the sleds from the
opposite ends may pass without collision.

The first experience of this diversion is fearful to a person of
delicate nerves. The pitch of the descent is so sheer, the height so
great, (apparently,) the motion of the sled so swift, and its course so
easily changed,--even the lifting of a hand is sufficient,--that the
novice is almost sure to make immediate shipwreck. The sleds are small
and low, with smooth iron runners, and a plush cushion, upon which the
navigator sits bolt upright with his legs close together, projecting
over the front. The runners must be exactly parallel to the lines of the
course at starting, and the least tendency to sway to either side must
be instantly corrected by the slightest motion of the hand.

I engaged one of the _mujiks_ in attendance to pilot me on my first
voyage. The man having taken his position well forward on the little
sled, I knelt upon the rear end, where there was barely space enough for
my knees, placed my hands upon his shoulders, and awaited the result. He
shoved the sled with his hands, very gently and carefully, to the brink
of the icy steep: then there was a moment's adjustment: then a poise:
then--sinking of the heart, cessation of breath, giddy roaring and
whistling of the air, and I found myself scudding along the level with
the speed of an express train. I never happened to fall out of a
fourth-story window, but I immediately understood the sensations of the
unfortunate persons who do. It was so frightful that I shuddered when we
reached the end of the course and the man coolly began ascending the
steps of the opposite hill, with the sled under his arm. But my
companions were waiting to see me return, so I mounted after him, knelt
again, and held my breath. This time, knowing what was coming, I caught
a glimpse of our descent, and found that only the first plunge from the
brink was threatening. The lower part of the curve, which is nearly a
parabolic line, is more gradual, and the seeming headlong fall does not
last more than the tenth part of a second. The sensation, nevertheless,
is very powerful, having all the attraction, without the reality, of
danger.

The ice-hills in the Taurida Gardens were not so high, and the descent
was less abrupt: the course was the smooth floor of an intervening lake,
which was kept clear for skat