peasants who thus tranquilly endured the heat of fur on a midsummer noon would, did circumstances require it, bear the piercing cold of winter with equal calmness clad in cotton shirts, or freeze to death on sentry duty without a murmur.  They were probably on their way to find work during the harvest and earn a few kopeks, and very likely would return to their struggling families as poor as they went.  As we watched this imperturbable crowd, we became infected with their spirit of unconcern, and entered into sympathy with the national saytchas—­a case of atmospheric influence.

At last the steamer arrived, none the worse for its encounter with the bar.  Usually, the mail steamers halt three hours—­half-merchandise steamers four hours—­at Kazan and other important towns on the Volga, affording hasty travelers an opportunity to make a swift survey in a drosky; but on this occasion one hour was made to suffice, and at last we were really off on our way to the estate down the river where we were to pay our long-promised visit.

We were still at a reach of the river where the big steamer might sit down on another reef, and the men were kept on guard at the bow, with hardly an intermission, gauging the depth of the water with their striped poles, to guide the helmsman by their monotonous calls:  “Vosim!” “Schest-s-polovino-o-o-iu!” “Sim!” (Eight!  Six and a half!  Seven!) They had a little peculiarity of pronunciation which was very pleasing.  And we soon discovered that into shallower water than five and a half quarters we might not venture.

The river was extremely animated above the mouth of the Kama, the great waterway from the mines and forests of the Ural and Siberia.  Now and then, the men on a float heavily laden with iron bars, which was being towed to the Fair at Nizhni Novgorod, would shout a request that we would slacken speed, lest they be swamped with our swell.  Huge rafts of fine timber were abundant, many with small chapel-like structures on them, which were not chapels, however.  Cattle steamers passed, the unconfined beasts staring placidly over the low guards of the three decks, and uttering no sound.  We had already learned that the animals are as quiet as the people, in Russia, the Great Silent Land.  Very brief were our halts at the small landings.  The villagers, who had come down with baskets of fresh rolls and berries and bottles of cream, to supply hungry passengers whose means or inclination prevented their eating the steamer food, had but scant opportunity to dispose of their perishable wares.