a warm day's journey in such a
vehicle, which has neither springs nor backed seats--three fiery
horses fastened to it, and each pulling, plunging, and pirouetting on
his own account; a ferocious yamtschick cracking his whip and
shrieking "Shivar! shivar!"--faster! faster!--the wagon, rattling all
over, plunging into ruts, jumping over stones, ripping its way through
bogs and mud-banks; your bones shaken nearly out of their sockets;
your vertebrae partially dislocated; your mouth filled with dust; your
tongue swollen and parched; your eyes blinded with grit; your
_yamtschick_ reeling drunk with _vodka_, and bound to draw to the
destined station--or some worse place; your confidence in men and
horses shaken with your bones; your views of the future circumscribed
by every turn of the road--oh! it is charming; it is the very climax
of human enjoyment. Wouldn't you like to travel in Russia?

In addition to the villages which are scattered at frequent intervals
along the route, the gilded dome of a church is occasionally seen in
the distance, indicating the existence of a town; but one seldom
catches more than a glimpse of the green-covered roofs of the houses,
over the interminable patches of scrubby pine. It is not a country
that presents such attractive features as to induce the mere tourist
to get out and spend a few days rambling through it. In these dreary
solitudes of marshes and pines, the inhabitants speak no other
language than their own, and that not very well; but well or ill, it
is all Greek--or rather Russian--to the majority of people from other
countries.

But, as I said before, this habit of digression will be the death of
me. Like a rocket, I start off splendidly, but explode and fall to
pieces in every direction before I get half way on my journey. If the
scintillations are varied and gayly colored, to be sure, the powder is
not utterly lost; but the trouble of it is, if one keeps going off
like rockets all the time, he will never get any where, and in the
end will leave nothing but smoke and darkness to the gaping multitude.

If my memory serves me, I was talking of the Emperor Alexander's convoy
of private railway carriages--the most magnificent affair of the kind,
perhaps, in existence. It was made purposely for his use, at a cost of
more than a hundred thousand dollars, and presented to him by the
American company, Winans and Company. Nothing so magnificent in
decoration, and so admirably adapted to