2 2 2 THR UGH R US SI A ON A M US TA JVC. 



our parting conversation at Kanseropol. Among other 

 things, he had been quietly studying the Americans — 

 with me for his model. Now, he thought, he might 

 say he knew them thoroughly. Among their most 

 conspicuous traits was a peculiar fondness for dogs, 

 horses, and little children. They never said what they 

 didn't mean, and always did what they said they were 

 going to do. (To the Russian mind the latter traits 

 must have seemed, indeed, remarkable.) 



But the most peculiar thing he had learned about 

 them, was that they never made a big fuss about little 

 things. This latter important characteristic was dis- 

 covered by him, it appeared, from an incident that 

 occurred between us somewhere on the road between 

 Kurskh and KharkofL I remembered the occasion as 

 he recalled it. The whimsical idea had occurred to 

 him to give his horse a feed of white bread for its mid- 

 day meal. Replying to his request, I simply answered 

 "very well." This laconic reply to so extraordinary a 

 proposition as feeding his horse white bread, struck 

 him as being so very remarkable that he had remem- 

 bered it and treasured it up as peculiarly American. 

 Two Russians, he said, would have discussed the sub- 

 ject pro and con for an hour, and have made observa- 

 tions about it for days afterward. 



And so it came about that after Kanseropol, Texas 

 and I were thrown upon our own resources and society. 

 He and Sascha's horse had, of course, grown attached 

 to each other; but just how strong this attachment 

 had become was not apparent until the hour of their 

 forcible separation. Though mine was the hand that 

 fed him, and Sascha's horse was an atrocious pilferer 



