violent storm. They were waiting for calm
weather, and invited me to join their party, but
I said I preferred journeying to the promontory
on foot, and making the shorter and less dangerous
passage. I reached my destination the
same evening, but without waiting for the ferry-
boat, immediately turned southward and took
the road that leads to Onega. It was the
only road now open to me, and I toiled on
through a desolate region of sandy heaths and
marshes, with the sea on my right hand and a
low range of downs on my left. The nature of
the country may be inferred from the fact that
in one possade, as these maritime villages are
called, I could procure no bread: the inhabitants
having been without any for a week, owing to
the vessel which brings flour from Archangel
being delayed by the storm. As a set-off to
this privation I obtained fresh herrings from the
White Sea, well flavoured and of good size. I
was not tempted to make the experiment at
Onega that I had tried at Archangel, but
pushed through without stopping. Two routes
here offered themselves for my choice. The
first, to the north-west, would have led me by
the marshes of Laponia to the Torneo river,
near the Swedish frontier; the second, to the
south, crossed the government of Olouets, by
Vytiegra to the Gulf of Finland and the Baltic.
The former was the more fatiguing route, the
latter the more dangerous, yet the dread of
encountering privations similar to those I had
experienced after passing the Ural mountains,
determined me to turn towards Vytiegra.
Comparatively speaking my journey presented few
difficulties; the season was no longer inclement,
for it was now the month of June; and
when I stopped for the night in the woods, the
branches of the trees made me a fresh and
comfortable bed. What surprised me was never
being attacked by wild animals, though the
forests were full of them; I was sometimes
roused from my slumbers by hearing the distant
howling of the wolves, but none ever came in
sight. Occasional hardships I had, however, to
undergo, and sometimes, in spite of my
knowledge of the manners of the people, I fell into
mistakes. One day, near Kargopol, I asked
for food at a cottage, and was told they had
nothing but tolokno to give me. "Tolokno let
it be then!" said I, curious to make acquaintance
with a national dish which I had often
heard of but had never seen. Great was my
confusion when the mistress of the hut placed
before me a pitcher of water, a spoon, and a
small pipkin half filled witli a blackish flour. I
did not know how to eat it, but was afraid to
betray my ignorance, and began to talk about all
sorts of things to distract the attention of my
hostess: who, however, watched me attentively,
and asked me why I did not begin, since I was
so hungry?

"But perhaps you like," she said, "to mix it
with kvass."

"Certainly," I answered. Whereupon she
immediately fetched some cider, and, pouring it
on the flour, began to stir it with the spoon.
The dusky mass quickly expanded, quite filling
the pipkin, and then all my doubts were removed,
and I swallowed it greedily. The preparation
is simply the flour of oats after they
have been dried in the oven; when moistened
with water or kvass, it is by no means disagreeable.

At the military posts and from the convoys,
I experienced no interference, but I had scarcely
reached Vytiegra, when a peasant, whom I had
met in the harbour, asked me where I was going?
I said I was a bohomolets, coming from the
Monastry of Solovetz, and meant to complete
my pilgrimage by kissing the holy relics at
Novgorod and Kiev.

"I am your man, then," he said, " I will take
you to St. Petersburg. My boat is a small one,
I have a horse to take in it, and you will help
me to row."

I asked him how much he would give me,
and we were, a long while bargaining; but at last
we agreed that he should supply me with food
throughout the voyage. The agreement to enter
into the capital off Russia was a thing I had
never contemplated, but though full of danger
I eagerly seized on any opportunity of getting
near any sea or frontier. In the evening, after
we had drunk a glass together to make the
bargain sure, I stepped on board, and we began our
voyage, which led from Vytiegra by Lake
Onega, the River Svir, Lake Ladoga, and the
Neva, to the walls of St. Petersburg. Though
the boatman's son was added to our crew, the
navigation was toilsome, and not without danger;
for, to make what money he could, the owner was
in the habit of taking in passengers, for the most
part drunken peasants, who gave us a great
deal of trouble. On one occasion one of these
fellows fell overboard, and I had to jump into
the water to save him—not, I confess, out of
pure compassion, but with a reference to my
own safety, for had a fatal accident happened we
should have been obliged to stop at the first
police station, and then my passport would have
been asked for.

Arrived at St. Petersburg I found a lodging
in a poor habitation (dom postoialy) in the
quarter where the lowest class of workmen
resided, in miserable rooms, where, if they were
lucky, they had a truckle-bed to sleep on, but
generally the bare floor was their place of repose,
and they slept, as the Russians say, "on the
plank, with a fist for their pillow." I obtained
a better kind of room, with some furniture in it,
for eight kopecks a day. As soon as the
bargain was concluded, in order to be beforehand
with my landlady, I asked her to show me the
police-office, that I might regukte the affair of
my passport. "Who are you? " she asked.
"A bohomolets," I replied, "from beyond the
Vologda, on my way now to Veliki-Novgorod,
to adore the holy relics there." "You do right,"
she said. "May God preserve you! Show me
your passport." I handed her my pass: not
without an uneasy feeling; but it was evident
she could not read, for she only looked at the
stamp, and inquired how long I meant to stay?