indignant criticism, reproach, and ejaculations, all tangled up with
fragments of cookery receipts, though evidently not the receipt for the
Gorodetz cakes, which is a secret. The other passengers listened in
amazement and delight. When he paused for breath, I remarked:--

"Well, I don't see any harm in having bestowed such a delicate luxury on
the poor stewardess. Did any of you think to buy a cake for her? And why
not? I denied myself to give her pleasure. Look at it in that light for
a while, sir, if my bad taste offends you. And, in the mean while, tell
me what has inspired you with the taste to dress like a peasant?"

That settled him, and he retreated. That evening he and the friend with
whom he seemed to be traveling talked most entertainingly in the little
saloon, after supper. The friend, a round, rosy, jolly man, dressed in
ordinary European clothes, was evidently proud of his flow of language,
and liked to hear himself talk. Actors, actresses, and theatres in
Russia, from the middle of the last century down to the present day,
were his favorite topic, on which he declaimed with appropriate gestures
and very noticeable management of several dimples in his cheeks. As a
matter of course, he considered the present day degenerate, and lauded
the old times and dead actors and actresses only. It seemed that the
longer they had been dead, the higher were their merits. He talked very
well, also, about books and social conditions.

The progress of the weak-kneed steamer against wind and current was very
slow and uncertain, and we never knew when we should reach any given
point. Even the mouths of the rivers were not so exciting or important
in nature as they used to look to me when I studied geography. I
imparted to the captain my opinion that his engine was no better than a
_samovar_. He tried hard to be angry, but a glance at that ridiculous
machine convinced him of the justice of my comparison, and he broke into
a laugh.

We left the steamer at Yaroslavl (it was bound for Rybinsk), two hundred
and forty-one miles above Nizhni-Novgorod, and got our first view of the
town at daybreak. It stands on the high west bank of the river, but is
not so picturesque as Nizhni. Access to the town is had only through
half a dozen cuts and ravines, as at Nizhni; and what a singular town it
is! With only a little over thirty thousand inhabitants, it has
seventy-seven churches, besides monasteries and other ecclesiastical
building