er travelling. So long as
the air is perfectly still, the cold may be very intense without being
disagreeable; but if a strong head wind is blowing, and the thermometer
ever so many degrees below zero, driving in an open sledge is a very
disagreeable operation, and noses may get frostbitten without their
owners perceiving the fact in time to take preventive measures. Then why
not take covered sledges on such occasions? For the simple reason that
they are not to be had; and if they could be procured, it would be well
to avoid using them, for they are apt to produce something very like
seasickness. Besides this, when the sledge gets overturned, it is
pleasanter to be shot out on to the clean, refreshing snow than to be
buried ignominiously under a pile of miscellaneous baggage.

The chief requisite for winter travelling in these icy regions is a
plentiful supply of warm furs. An Englishman is very apt to be imprudent
in this respect, and to trust too much to his natural power of resisting
cold. To a certain extent this confidence is justifiable, for an
Englishman often feels quite comfortable in an ordinary great coat when
his Russian friends consider it necessary to envelop themselves in furs
of the warmest kind; but it may be carried too far, in which case severe
punishment is sure to follow, as I once learned by experience. I may
relate the incident as a warning to others:

One day in mid-winter I started from Novgorod, with the intention of
visiting some friends at a cavalry barracks situated about ten miles
from the town. As the sun was shining brightly, and the distance to
be traversed was short, I considered that a light fur and a bashlyk--a
cloth hood which protects the ears--would be quite sufficient to keep
out the cold, and foolishly disregarded the warnings of a Russian friend
who happened to call as I was about to start. Our route lay along the
river due northward, right in the teeth of a strong north wind. A wintry
north wind is always and everywhere a disagreeable enemy to face; let
the reader try to imagine what it is when the Fahrenheit thermometer
is at 30 degrees below zero--or rather let him refrain from such an
attempt, for the sensation produced cannot be imagined by those who have
not experienced it. Of course I ought to have turned back--at least,
as soon as a sensation of faintness warned me that the circulation was
being seriously impeded--but I did not wish to confess my imprudence to
the frien