TO THE HUNTING GROUNDS loi 



The guest-room, where you wait whilst the horses 

 are being changed, is fitted with a couple of prison-hke 

 trestle beds — usually guiltless of any pretence at a 

 covering — long enough for a dwarf, a common chair 

 or two, and — perhaps — a table. 



Russians travel along the post-roads of the country 

 with an outfit of mattresses, pillows, etc., in case they 

 seek the roadside caravanserais, but as a rule they go 

 straight forward night and day to the journey's end. 

 Every necessity in the way of food and drink must be 

 carried, as these semi-hotels do not set out to provide 

 meals, although at the more go-ahead examples it is 

 possible to obtain bread, not always black, which for 

 some occult reason is never cooked through, eggs, and 

 the sour milk, known as airam, beloved of the Caucasian 

 tribes. It is curdled with rennet, and then mixed 

 with water, and keeps, apparently, for an indefinite 

 time. 



The samovar is the next sine qua non to the Tsar, and 

 this brazen urn arrangement, heated from the centre 

 by a cylinder filled with charcoal, is a very simple 

 device for the boiling of water quickly. Tea every 

 traveller carries in his stores. Plates and cups are 

 occasionally to be had for a small fee, and wood for 

 the fire in the guest-room — we are now discussing a 

 veritable Carlton in post-houses — is supposed to be 

 provided once a prix fixe. If you require a second 

 supply the cost is what the local Shylock demands. 

 In the rougher shelters the windows are innocent of 

 glass, and no arrangements are made for washing. 

 Cleanliness is not encouraged. As one inquisitive post- 



