us that the discordant music was not an accident due to bad training, but deliberate and habitual.  I noticed also that the men and women, though they stood on opposite sides of the church, as with the Russian Old Ritualists, with the women on the left,—­in the State Church, at Court, the women stand on the right,—­they crossed themselves from left to right, like Roman Catholics, instead of the other way about, as do the Russians.

As we were exploring the Tatar shops at noon, we heard the muezzin calling to prayer from the minaret of the mosque close by, and we set off to attend the service.  If we had only happened to have on our galoshes, we might have complied with etiquette by removing them, I suppose, and could have entered in our shoes.  At least, the Russian policeman said so, and that is very nearly what the Tatars did.  They kicked off the stiff leather slippers in which they scuff about, and entered in their tall boots, with the inset of frosted green pebbled horsehide in the heel, and soft soles, like socks.  As it was, we did not care to try the experiment of removing our shoes, and so we were obliged to stand in the vestibule, and look on from the threshold.  Each Tatar, as he entered, pulled out the end of his turban, and let it float down his back.  Where the turban came from for the prayers, I do not know.  None of the Tatars had worn a turban in the shops from which they had just come in large numbers, abandoning the pressing engagements of the busy noontide.  Several individuals arrived very late, and decided not to enter.  All of these late comers, one after the other, beckoned me mysteriously out of sight of the congregation and the mollah, and whispered eagerly:—­

“How do you like it?”

“Very much,” I answered emphatically; whereupon they exhibited signs of delight which were surprising in such grave people, and even made a motion to kiss my hand.

At least, that is what the motion would have meant from a Russian.  Next to the magnificent ceremonial of the Russian Church, the opposite extreme, this simplicity of the congregational Mussulman worship is the most impressive I have ever seen.

The manner of our departure from Nizhni Novgorod was characteristically Russian,—­but not by our own choice.  We decided to go on up the Volga by steamer, see the river and a few of the towns, and return from some point, by rail, to Moscow.

The boat was advertised to start from the wharf, in the old town, at six o’clock in the evening.  We went aboard in good season, and discovered that there were but three first-class staterooms, the best of which (the only good one, as it afterwards appeared) had been captured by some friends of the captain.  We installed ourselves in the best we could get, and congratulated each other when the steamer started on time.  We had hardly finished the congratulations when it drew up at another wharf and made fast.  Then it was explained to us that it was to load at