w deeply rooted. I
can only say, however, that my own prejudices and preconceptions in the
same direction disappeared, one after another, with astonishing rapidity
in my first year; and now my spirits rise every time I cross the
frontier of that great country, and my heart warms to that great people
as soon as I see their kindly and friendly faces, their interesting and
picturesque houses, and catch my first sight of their beautiful
churches, with the fine cupolas above them with their hanging chains,
painted and gilded domes, and delicate finials glittering in the sun and
outlined against a sky of blue. Russia to me presents at once a kindly,
friendly atmosphere, and others feel it also; for I have, just before
writing these words, laid down a copy of _The Times_ in which Mr.
Stephen Graham--no one knows the heart and soul of Russia quite as he
does, I fancy--writing one of his illuminating articles on "Russia's
Holy War," says "People in Russia are naturally kind. They have become
even gentler since the war began." Those who enter Russia expecting the
unfriendly will find, I feel sure, as we have done, exactly the
opposite--nothing but kindness and courtesy. It will be the same in
other experiences also if I mistake not.

One of the chief difficulties ordinary travellers or tourists expect to
encounter, for instance, in Russia is that of language.

"Isn't it extraordinarily difficult to acquire, and to make yourself
understood?" is an invariable question, and certainly in long journeys
across country, as from Warsaw up to Riga, and from Libau on the Baltic
to Moscow, and especially in my Mining Camp Mission in Siberia, I
expected to have very great difficulties; but, as so often happens, they
were difficulties in anticipation rather than in reality.

Even off the beaten track in Russia any one who can travel comfortably
in other European countries can travel equally satisfactorily there.
Most educated people speak French, and an ever-increasing number--for
English governesses and nurses are in great request--speak English.
Great numbers of the working class speak German, the national language,
of course, of Russia's Baltic provinces, on railway trains as conductors
and in restaurants as waiters, and at railway stations as porters.
Indeed, if any one is in the dining-car of a train or in the buffet or
dining-room of a railway station or other public place, and has the
courage to stand up and say, "Does any one here s