$o THROUGH RUSSIA ON A MUSTANG. 



pristav invited us to spend the evening at his house. 

 Vodka, raw salt fish, salted cucumbers, cheese, tea, and 

 cigarettes were provided by our host, who turned out 

 to be a man of considerable education and of no mean 

 order of intelligence. He had been a school-master, 

 manager of an estate, principal of a reformatory for 

 boys, and was now chief of police of a district about 

 forty miles square, containing a population of 50,000 

 people. I had, of course, designs on the pristav's 

 knowledge of his country and its institutions, and led 

 the conversation into that channel. He was a genial 

 and communicative soul; a thorough Russian in that 

 absence of reserve, when the hand of good fellowship 

 had been given, that is one of the national traits. A 

 Russian police officer is compelled, nolens volens, to 

 suspect the stranger on principle; but approach him 

 genially, drink tea or vodka with him, the social heart 

 that beats universal in the Russian breast is touched, 

 and he is yours, believing in you, confiding in you for 

 the time, though he may grow suspicious again after 

 you are gone. 



In talking of international politics, the pristav of 

 Tchudovo was as epigrammatic as interesting. 



" The only enemy we have,'* said he, " is Germany. 

 Austria is an ingrate. Several times have we stepped 

 into the breach and saved her ; and our reward is that 

 she arrays herself against us. England doesn't under- 

 stand us, and so she hates us. The Hebrew is our 

 greatest economic question. The countries of the 

 future are America and Russia. Our people have 

 more good qualities than bad. Our faults are great, 

 but our virtues are greater. Our prisons are good, and 



