s side of eternity,--if perfectly convenient!" Under the
pressure of increasingly vivacious attacks, prompted by hunger, he
finally condescended to explain that the big mail steamer, finding too
little water in the channel, had "sat down on a sand-bank," and that two
other steamers were trying to pull her off. "She might be along at three
o'clock, or later,--or some time." It began to be apparent to us why
the success of the Fair depends, in great measure, on the amount of
water in the river.

Our first meal of bread and tea had been eaten at seven o'clock, and we
had counted upon breakfasting on the steamer, where some of the best
public cooking in the country, especially in the matter of fish, is to
be found. It was now two o'clock. The town was distant. The memory of
the ducks, the size of a plover, and other things in proportion, in
which our strenuous efforts had there resulted, did not tempt us to
return. Russians have a way of slaying chickens and other poultry almost
in the shell, to serve as game.

Accordingly, we organized a search expedition among the peddlers, and in
the colony of rainbow-hued shops planted in a long street across the
heads of the wharves, and filled chiefly with Tatars and coarse Tatar
wares. For the equivalent of seventeen cents we secured a quart of rich
cream, half a dozen hard-boiled eggs, a couple of pounds of fine
raspberries, and a large fresh wheaten roll. These we ate in courses, as
we perched on soap-boxes and other unconventional seats, surrounded by
smoked fish, casks of salted cucumbers, festoons of dried mushrooms,
"cartwheels" of sour black bread, and other favorite edibles, in the
open-fronted booths. A delicious banquet it was,--one of those which
recur to the memory unbidden when more elaborate meals have been
forgotten.

Returning to the wharf with a fresh stock of patience, we watched the
river traffic and steamers of rival lines, which had avoided sand-banks,
as they took in their fuel supplies of refuse petroleum from the scows
anchored in mid-stream, and proceeded on their voyage to Astrakhan. Some
wheelbarrow steamers, bearing familiar names, "Niagara" and the like,
pirouetted about in awkward and apparently aimless fashion.

Passengers who seemed to be better informed than we as to the ways of
steamers began to make their appearance. A handsome officer deposited
his red-cotton-covered traveling-pillow and luggage on the dock and
strolled off, certain that no one