ians of the second
rank.

We left the theatre at the close of the third act, and crossed the river
to our quarters on the hill. A chill mist hung over the Fair, but the
lamps still burned, the streets were thronged, and the Don Cossacks kept
patient guard at every corner. The night went by like one unconscious
minute, in beds unmolested by bug or flea; and when I arose, thoroughly
refreshed, I involuntarily called to mind a frightful chapter in De
Custine's "Russia," describing the prevalence of an insect which he
calls the _persica_, on the banks of the Volga. He was obliged to sleep
on a table, the legs whereof were placed in basins of water, to escape
their attacks. I made many inquiries about these terrible _persicas_,
and finally discovered that they were neither more nor less
than--cockroaches!--called _Prossaki_ (Prussians) by the Russians, as
they are sometimes called _Schwaben_ (Suabians) by the Germans. Possibly
they may be found in the huts of the serfs, but they are rare in decent
houses.

We devoted the first sunny hours of the morning to a visit to the
citadel and a walk around the crest of the hill. On the highest point,
just over the junction of the two rivers, there is a commemorative
column to Minim, the patriotic butcher of Novgorod, but for whose
eloquence, in the year 1610, the Russian might possibly now be the
Polish Empire. Vladislas, son of Sigismund of Poland, had been called to
the throne by the boyards, and already reigned in Moscow, when Minim
appealed to the national spirit, persuaded General Pojarski to head an
anti-Polish movement, which was successful, and thus cleared the way for
the election of Michael Romanoff, the first sovereign of the present
dynasty. Minim is therefore one of the historic names of Russia.

When I stood beside his monument, and the finest landscape of European
Russia was suddenly unrolled before my eyes, I could believe the
tradition of his eloquence, for here was its inspiration. Thirty or
forty miles away stretched the rolling swells of forest and grain-land,
fading into dimmest blue to the westward and northward, dotted with
villages and sparkling domes, and divided by shining reaches of the
Volga. It was truly a superb and imposing view, changing with each spur
of the hill as we made the circuit of the citadel. Eastward, the country
rose into dark, wooded hills, between which the river forced its way in
a narrower and swifter channel, until it disappeared beh