y the national religion. The
Steppes are their Siberia, to which they have been banished. Their worship
is simple, commencing with silence and prayer, and they do not use the
ceremonies and discipline common among most other Christians; but they are
firm believers in the Christian faith, and many of them are
spiritually-minded people.

On the 15th John Yeardley and William Rasche, under the conduct of N.
Schmidt, left Neuhoffnung to visit the Molokans. The first village they
came to was Novo-Salifks, a prosperous colony in worldly matters, but said
to be behind the others in spiritual life. At the next, Wasilowkov, they
met with Terenti Sederhoff, the apostle of the Molokans, whose remarkable
history J.Y. related in a tract called _The Russian Peasant_, forming
No. 12 of his series. Here they also met with A. Stajoloff, who remembered
William Allen's visit in 1819. Sederhoff accompanied them to the third
village, Astrachanka, where they had a conversational meeting with several
of the chief men, but the intercourse was carried on at a double
disadvantage.

They spoke, says John Yeardley, nothing but Russ. T never regretted more
the want of the language. Schmidt had a manifest unwillingness to
interpret all I wanted to say, because it did not accord with his own
sentiments, and he feared it might strengthen the people in those views
from which the Mennonites would draw them. There was a precious feeling
over us, and I felt assured they appreciated our motive in visiting them;
they often pressed my hand when comparing Scripture texts on which we were
of one mind. I felt satisfied in having done what I could to direct them
in the right way, and to strengthen them in it. They are well read in the
Scriptures.

The travellers passed the night at this village, sleeping as usual in
their carriage; and the next day, taking a loving leave of their friends,
directed their course over the steppes into the Crimea. Here they found
themselves in the heart of the Tartar country, beyond the verge of
civilized life.

The Tartar villages, says John Yeardley, are the meanest possible,
consisting sometimes of mere holes dug in the earth, or huts standing a
little above the ground. The men wear wide drawers with the pink shirt
over them; the women have a chemise reaching to the calf of the leg, dirty
and coarse, an apron round the waist, sometimes so scanty or so ragged
that it will not meet, and a handkerchief tied in a slovenly m