He had four daughters, all accomplished, the
eldest decidedly plain, the others good-looking.
A suitor appeared for the hand of the youngest
and prettiest, in the person of a young government
official. His go-between, or swacha,
required to know how much money the father
would give, and what the "predania." "I
give nothing," said the old man. "The elder
sisters must be married first, and it is robbing
them to give first to the youngest. If the
young man will take the eldest, I will give four
thousand roubles; if the second, fifteen hundred;
if the third, a 'predani' without money; but if
he must have the youngest, nothing." As the
young man wanted to buy or bribe his way into
a higher station of life, he offered to take the
eldest of these girls for six thousand roubles.
This would have wronged the other daughters,
and the offer was refused. The youngest, who
had set her heart on the fellow, pined; the
others offered to give up their claims to make her
happy, but the father was inexorable. The poor
thing was dead of consumption eighteen months
afterwards, and the bargaining swain is now
married to the eldest, richest, and least handsome.
This happened in the capital, among what
we called the "French-polished" Russians. But
I must return to my poor peasants of no polish.

The swacha finding the field occupied by
strange guests, confined herself on this occasion
to an enumeration of the many excellences of
the appointed husband, among which I remember
one which sounded curious—it was, that though
fond of brandy, he knew how to get it for
nothing. Another was, that his father would
not live long, and so, he being the eldest son,
his wife would quickly become mistress of the
whole family, and own the hut, pig, cow, horse,
and other appurtenances of headship. When a
woman marries the eldest son of a house, she is
taken home to the paternal roof, and, on the
death of the father, becomes mistress, to the
exclusion of the mother-in-law, whose reign ceases
at once.

As it was now late, the good people of this
hut offered me a mattress in another room,
and I passed the night luxuriously in clean
linen, and with my clothes off, for the first and
only time during a long Russian journey. Where
the night was spent by my young Russian
fellow-traveller I cannot tell. In the morning,
when we were about to start, he had vanished
with his traps, no one knew whither. After
waiting at the station some time, I went back
to inquire at my host's. One of the daughters
met me at the door with sparkling eyes, as
pretty a country beauty as I had seen anywhere
in Russia. To my question she answered, "I
will tell you; you are a good fellow. He cannot
leave me yet, and will remain here a day or
two. But don't say to anybody where he is.
God give you a safe journey. Good-by."
Wherewith she vanished. Already my fellow-
travellers were grumbling at the long delay, so
I had little difficulty in persuading them to
travel on without him.

I may as well tell—since I know it—the
sequel to this little history. Nine months
afterwards, I was stepping out of a railway
carriage at Moscow, when I met my old
companion of the hut; he seized my portmanteau
with one hand, and with the other he dragged
me to the gate, tumbled me with himself into a
prelotka (a small open carriage), and directed
the driver where to go. "You are going to my
house," he said, "to meet an old acquaintance,
and to be our guest while you remain in Moscow.
Don't say no; it shall be so." On
arriving at his house, a small one, but very
respectable, I was agreeably surprised to meet the
beauty of the hut, who came forward as his wife,
looking as happy as man could desire. She
had just finished a music lesson, was dressed
very neatly, and she did the honours of the
house quite creditably while I stayed.

"You remember telling me on that awful
journey in March last," said the young Russian,
when we sat up together, "how they married
for love in England, and not for money; how
women were not there slaves to men, and so
forth. Well, I saw this girl, that very night,
about to be sacrificed to a brute. I thought her
good and pure, and you know she is beautiful.
So I began that night to love her, told her so,
and told her father so. I could not tear
myself away for three days, and at the end of that
time I determined I would have her, let it cost
me what it might. So when I got to Moscow
I called on her master, the baron; offered to buy
her; and begged him not to allow her to be
married to the bad man whom the steward had
appointed. But," he continued, taking me by
both hands, "you had been before me there.
He told me that he had seen an Englishman
who so represented the case, that he had given
orders for the stopping of that marriage."

"Yes," I said, "I did see him, and found
him a kind-hearted gentleman, quite unaware of
some of his steward's pranks. He granted my
request at once, and in my presence sent a letter
off to stop the marriage."

"But," he said, "that is not all. He
refused to sell her, said that he knew the family
well, that the old man had charge of him while
a boy, and once protected his life at some risk.
He asked me what I was, and what interest I
had in the girl? I replied, that I wanted to
marry her. 'Then,' said he, 'the whole family
shall have its freedom as soon as we can make
out the necessary papers.' That is all done long
ago. The rascally steward is discharged, and
I am to fill his place."

THE RULE OF THE ROAD.

Again I turn to the snowy winter journey of
which a part has been already described. The
track on the fourth day was worse than any we
had yet encountered, being more cut up with
traffic. But we had good cattle, and one man
less to carry, so, although we were upset
more than once, we did not make less than our
usual progress. Once, the kibitka turned over
in a deep valley of snow, and the passengers
were tossed together into a confused and