UP THE DON AND VOLGA. 253 



parting for all eternity. At every warning of the 

 steamer's whistle the departing one was spasmodically 

 seized by first one, then from six to twenty others, and 

 kissed as though he or she were the only person in 

 the world any of them had ever loved. And after 

 it seemed to be all over, and the roustabouts were 

 about to remove the gangway, one young woman 

 rushed frantically off the boat, and, in defiance of the 

 captain, who stamped his foot, and the bell that con- 

 tinued to ring, kissed again everybody who had come 

 down to see her off, from the red-eyed old grand- 

 mother to the blinking and unresponsive infant in its 

 nurse's arms. 



The Don is not a large river, though its volume of 

 water is considerably larger in the spring than in 

 August and September. In August, 1890, the traveler 

 could shy a stone across it at most points, and even 

 this is apt to convey a false idea regarding its volume. 

 Its bed is a tortuous depression in a flat and somewhat 

 sandy country, and its shallowness in proportion to its 

 width, as well as the scenery, or absence of scenery, on 

 its banks, reminds one of the Platte River in Nebraska. 

 It differs from the Platte, however, in having much less 

 current. To this, and to the fact that it traverses a 

 lower and somewhat heavier country, it owes its value 

 as a navigable river. 



Before we were well away from Rostoff the steamer 

 had to begin whistling and tooting at big lumber- 

 rafts that were floating down, with exasperating pla- 

 cidity and indifference to up-coming craft, in the only 

 channel deep enough to let us pass. These rafts oc- 

 cupy two months in descending the river from Kalatch. 



