farmers; in the distance arose the smokes of two villages; and beyond all, as we looked inland, ran the sombre ridges of the fir-clad hills.  Below us, on the right, the yellow houses of the town shone in the subdued light,—­the only bright spot in the landscape, which elsewhere seemed to be overlaid with a tint of dark, transparent gray.  It was wonderfully silent.  Not a bird twittered; no bleat of sheep or low of cattle was heard from the grassy fields; no shout of children, or evening hail from the returning boats of the fishers.  Over all the land brooded an atmosphere of sleep, of serene, perpetual peace.  To sit and look upon it was in itself a refreshment like that of healthy slumber.  The restless devil which lurks in the human brain was quieted for the time, and we dreamed—­knowing all the while the vanity of the dream—­of a pastoral life in some such spot, among as ignorant and simple-hearted a people, ourselves as untroubled by the agitations of the world.

We had scarce inhaled—­or, rather, insuded, to coin a paradoxical word for a sensation which seems to enter at every pore—­the profound quiet and its suggestive fancies for the space of half an hour, when the wind fell at the going down of the sun, and the humming mist of mosquitoes arose again.  Returning to the town, we halted at the top of the common to watch the farmers of the neighborhood at their horse-dealing.  Very hard, keen, weather-browned faces had they, eyes tight-set for the main chance, mouths worn thin by biting farthings, and hands whose hard fingers crooked with holding fast what they had earned.  Faces almost of the Yankee type, many of them, but relieved by the twinkling of a humorous faculty or the wild gleam of imagination.  The shaggy little horses, of a dun or dull tan-color, seemed to understand that their best performance was required, and rushed up and down the road with an amazing exhibition of mettle.  I could understand nothing of the Finnish tongue except its music; but it was easy to perceive that the remarks of the crowd were shrewd, intelligent, and racy.  One young fellow, less observant, accosted us in the hope that we might be purchasers.  The boys, suspecting that we were as green as we were evidently foreign, held out their hands for alms, with a very unsuccessful air of distress, but readily succumbed to the Russian interjection “proch" (be off!) the repetition of which, they understood, was a reproach.

That night we slept on the velvet couches of the cabin, having the spacious apartment to ourselves.  The bright young officer had left for the copper mines, the pilgrims were at Valaam, and our stout, benignant captain looked upon us as his only faithful passengers.  The stewards, indeed, carried their kindness beyond reasonable anticipations.  They brought us real pillows and other conveniences, bolted the doors against nightly intruders, and in the morning conducted us into the pantry, to wash our faces in the basin sacred