, Spirovskaia, Tver, and
Klinskaia. The rest are small intermediate stations. At every
seventy-five versts--about fifty miles--the cars stop twenty minutes,
and refreshments may be had by paying a pretty heavy price for them.
At the points above-named there are large and substantial edifices
built by the company, containing various offices, spacious
eating-saloons, ante-chambers, etc., and attached to which are
extensive machine-shops, and various outbuildings required by the
service. Occasionally towns may be seen in the vicinity of these
stations, but for the most part they stand out desolate and alone in
the dreary waste of country lying between the two great cities. At
every twenty-five versts are sub-stations, where the cars stop for a
few minutes. These are also large and very substantial edifices, but
not distinguished for architectural beauty, like many of the stations
in France and Germany. Usually the Russian station consists of an
immense plain circular building, constructed of brick, with very
thick walls, and a plain zinc roof, the outside painted red, the roof
green; wings or flanges built of the same material extending along the
track; a broad wooden esplanade in front, upon which the passengers
can amuse themselves promenading, and a neat garden, with other
accommodations, at one end. Some of the large stations are not only
massive and of enormous extent, but present rather a striking and
picturesque appearance as they are approached from the distance,
standing as they do in the great deserts of space like solitary
sentinels of civilization. The passengers rush out at every
stopping-place just as they do in other parts of the world, some to
stretch their limbs, others to replenish the waste that seems to be
constantly going on in the stomachs of the traveling public. I don't
know how it is, but it appears to me that people who travel by railway
are always either tired, thirsty, or hungry. The voracity with which
plates of soup, cutlets, sandwiches, salad, scalding hot tea, wine,
beer, and brandy are swallowed down by these hungry and thirsty
Russians, is quite as striking as any thing I ever saw done in the
same line at Washoe. But it is not a feature confined to Russia. I
notice the same thing every where all over the world; and what vexes
me about it is that I never get tired myself, and rarely hungry or
thirsty. Here, in midsummer, with a sweltering hot sun, and an
atmosphere that would almost smother