n the north! It cannot be forgotten,
and it cannot be described.

Twilight is long in a Siberian winter, both at the commencement and
the close of day. Morning is the best time to view it. A faint glimmer
appears in the quarter where the sun is to rise, but increases so
slowly that one often doubts that he has really seen it. The gleam of
light grows broader; the heavens above it become purple, then scarlet,
then golden, and gradually change to the whiteness of silver. When the
sun peers above the horizon the whole scene becomes dazzlingly
brilliant from the reflection of his rays on the snow. In the coldest
mornings there is sometimes a cloud or fog-bank resting near the
earth, from the congelation and falling of all watery particles in the
atmosphere. When the sun strikes this cloud and one looks through it
the air seems filled with millions of microscopic gems, throwing off
many combinations of prismatic colors, and agitated and mingled by
some unseen force. Gradually the cloud melts away as it receives the
direct rays of light and heat.

[Illustration: FROSTED HORSES.]

The intense cold upon the road affects horses by coating them, with
white frost. Their perspiration congeals and covers them as one may
see the grass covered in a November morning. Nature has dressed these
horses warmly, and very often their hair may justly be called fur.
They do not appear to suffer from the cold; they are never blanketed,
and their stables are little better than open sheds. One of their
annoyances is the congelation of their breath, and in the coldest
weather the yemshicks are frequently obliged to break away the icicles
that form around their horses' mouths. I have seen a horse reach the
end of a course with his nose encircled in a row of icy spikes,
resembling the decoration sometimes attached to a weaning calf.

In a clear morning or evening of the coldest days the smoke from the
chimneys in the villages rises very slowly. Gaining a certain height,
it spreads out as if unable to ascend farther. It is always light in
color and density, and when touched by the sun's rays appears faintly
crimsoned or gilded. Once when we reached a small hill dominating a
village, I could see the cloud of smoke below me agitated like the
ground swell of the ocean. I had only a moment to look upon it ere we
descended to the level of the street.

I have not recorded the incidents of each day on the steppe in
chronological order, on account of th