were too late, and saluting
our visitor with "zdrastvuitia," [Footnote: "Good health," or "Be in
health," the Russian greeting.] we sat down awkwardly enough on our
chairs, rolled our smoky hands up in our scarlet and yellow cotton
handkerchiefs, and, with a vivid consciousness of our dirty faces and
generally disreputable appearance, tried to look self-possessed,
and to assume the dignity which befitted officers of the great
Russian-American Telegraph Expedition! It was a pitiable failure. We
could not succeed in looking like anything but Wandering Koraks in
reduced circumstances. The ispravnik, however, did not seem to notice
anything unusual in our appearance, but rattled away with an incessant
fire of quick, nervous questions, such as "When did you leave
Petropavlovsk? Are you just from America? I sent a Cossack. Did you
meet him? How did you cross the tundras; with the Koraks? _Akh!_ those
_proclatye_ Koraks! Any news from St. Petersburg? You must come over
and dine with me. How long will you stay in town? You can take a bath
now before dinner. Ay! _loodee!_ [very loud and peremptory]. Go and
tell my Ivan to heat up the bath quick! _Akh Chort yeekh! vazmee!_"
and the restless little man finally stopped from sheer exhaustion, and
began pacing nervously across the room, while the Major related our
adventures, gave him the latest news from Russia, explained our plans,
the object of our expedition, told him of the murder of Lincoln, the
end of the Rebellion, the latest news from the French invasion of
Mexico, the gossip of the Imperial Court, and no end of other news
which had been old with us for six months, but of which the poor
exiled ispravnik had never heard a word. He had had no communication
with Russia in almost eleven months. After insisting again upon our
coming over to his house immediately to dine, he bustled out of the
room, and gave us an opportunity to wash and dress.

Two hours afterward, in all the splendour of blue coats, brass
buttons, and shoulder-straps, with shaven faces, starched shirts, and
polished leather boots, the "First Siberian Exploring Party" marched
over to the ispravnik's to dine. The Russian peasants whom we met
instinctively took off their frosty fur hoods and gazed wonderingly
at us as we passed, as if we had mysteriously dropped down from some
celestial sphere. No one would have recognised in us the dirty, smoky,
ragged vagabonds who had entered the village two hours before. The