large towns gives plenty of opportunity for
exercise and fresh air, and the absolute certainty of hearing the bells
gives a perfect sense of security that no one will be left behind. If
the bell rings twice just as the train enters the station, every one
knows that the stay will be short, and that it is not worth while
getting out.

Some of the most resting and refreshing experiences I have ever had have
been those of travelling day after day for some two or three thousand
miles in Russia, getting one's correspondence straight, for writing is
quite easy in those steady and slow-moving express trains, reading up
reviews and periodicals or making plans for future journeys, looking out
of the windows in the early morning or late evening, all varied by meals
in the _coupe_ or at a station, seeing all kinds of interesting people
in strange costumes, and many attractive incidents at places where one
alights for a walk and exercise.

More interesting than the railways, however, are the rivers. How large
these are, and how important a part they have filled in the past, before
the days of railways, and still play in the commerce and life of the
people, will be seen at once by a glance at the map at the end of the
book. None of them, however, though one gets a real affection for the
Neva after sledging over it in the winter and sailing upon it in the
summer, attracts and indeed fascinates, as the Volga never fails to do.
It is magnificent in size, and is the largest in Europe, 2,305 miles in
length, three times as long as the Rhine. Many of us know what the
Rhine is to the Germans. Treitschke, as we have been reminded in one of
the most widely read of modern books, when leaving Bonn, wrote to a
friend, "To-morrow I shall see the Rhine for the last time. The memory
of that noble river will keep my heart pure, and save me from sad and
evil thoughts throughout all the days of my life."

I have always understood the strong appeal to the historic, and even the
poetic, sense which the Rhine puts forth, but I never understood the
sense of the ideal which a river might convey until I saw, approached,
and crossed the Volga.

It was a May evening, three years ago, as we drew near and then passed
along its right bank before crossing. It was of the loveliest colour of
rich and living brown, like that of a healthy human skin, carrying life
and burdens of every description upon its ample bosom, fostering all
kinds of enterprise and activi