Jottings from Russia. 331 



Italians being far the best, in delivery at least. The Americans 

 raised a cheer for the host and Russia, and sang "For He Is a 

 Jolly Good Fellow." The Germans and Russians sang na- 

 tional songs in turn — some music was introduced, and after the 

 lively ones had each had a turn with the ladies of the place 

 and the excursion, some peasants (two men) gave us a Russian 

 dance. Then all sang the grand hymn of "God Bless the No- 

 ble Czar" — and we rode off under the stars for the train again. 

 Stick is geology in the Urals! 



Friday morning we found ourselves in a pouring rain, true 

 Ural weather. So out came high boots and waterproofs and we 

 all turned out for a seven mile tramp along the railroad to Oust- 

 Kataff. Here again in a gaily decorated pavilion was a break- 

 fast prepared by local officials. The usual Russian "prepara- 

 tory snacks" consisting of caviar, salt fish, cheese, etc.; and 

 then the meal of fish pie, cold suckling-pig with a sauce of sour 

 cream and horse-radish, pickled cucumbers, cake and oranges 

 and lastly boiled caidiflotver and beans ! You may imagine that 

 beer and wine are more or less necessary to carry off such a meal. 

 Then came a walk to the town, as usual three or four miles 

 away — fossil hunting — mutual staring competition between ex- 

 cursionists and natives who followed us by hundreds — a Ger- 

 man tries to ride and dislocate his elbow, thus increasing the 

 number in the hospital car. Return at dusk to dinner in the 

 restaurant train, "tchai" and bed. 



This morning we are in the station of Wiazovayah, and 

 while the party makes a short local excursion I am writing in 

 the station. Presently we take wagons for a thirty-mile drive 

 to the iron mines of Bakal, where we spend the night. The 

 rain still hangs over and the warmest clothing we have is not 

 too warm for comfort. 



I hardly need to emphasize, after the above narrative, the 

 wonderful hospitality that we are receiving on every hand. 

 When we remember that we are really "dead-heads" it is al- 

 most humiliating to see the way we are greeted on every side. 

 Officials salute us, peasants uncover as we pass, all show the 

 liveliest interest in making us comfortable and at home. 



\To be continued.'\ 



