have a superstitious reverence for them, which
it is possible to turn to very good account. I
have added also to my gift little plots of ground
for gardens, and have told my agent to establish
annual prizes for the best flowers grown in
them. My wife tried all this years ago, but
nothing came of it. When we were first married
we attempted for some years to reside here,
but it was impossible. My wife and children
grew sick with weariness and privation. I was
obliged to take them abroad, where we have
lived ever since. I know that I lose at least
two-thirds of my income by continuing an
absentee; but what am I to do? In Russia there
are no educational establishments worthy of the
name. No provincial society, no amusement,
no culture. Nothing but uniforms and their
wearers everywhere. There is not a skilled
physician at this moment, or a practised
surgeon within three hundred miles of us. There
is not a good library, or an accomplished
gentleman any nearer. To live here would be
to rot."

So far my friend, as we sat opposite each
other sipping some excellent home-made wine
like Burgundy, but with a curious flavour of
violets in it. Meantime the antechamber had
filled with a crowd of suitors; and his agent
came to give us a short preliminary summary of
their wants and wishes. The agent was a
retired colonel in the army. He still wore his
uniform, and though his manner was ostentatiously
cringing and humble, he was understood
to make some fifty thousand roubles, or say
seven thousand pounds yearly, by indirect means
out of the estate. "He is a great rogue,"
said my friend in English, as he entered, "but
if I send him away I shall only get a greater."
So the colonel joined us. He had a flat head,
gooseberry eyes, a wide thin mouth, a prominent
chin, and a jerky manner. When he spoke to
my friend, he saluted by putting the back of his
right hand against the peak of his cap and
bringing his heels together with a smart rap.
He is not a sympathetic gentleman at all, though
so marvellously polite, and the thin varnish of
civilisation over his behaviour seems to render
it more repulsive than it would be if more
natural and savage. He has a long list of
requests and petitions, and tries to show
the value of his services in having kept off
troubles of so pressing a nature from pursuing
his employer abroad. New barns are the first
thing required. The rats in the old ones are
so numerous that they eat up half the corn
stored up before it can be sold. One of the
barns, too, the best of them, has been recently
burnt. The peasants will no longer keep so
sharp a watch as they did in the old time of
serfdom, and incendiary fires have been very
numerous of late. The Polish malcontents are
suspected, but nothing can be proved for certain.
A steam plough must also be bought, and the
agent has already given orders for one through
a banker at Taganrog. It will cost a great
deal of money, but the plough bought two
years ago is quite spoiled, and hand labour is not
to be had for love or money. The peasants when
required to work assemble in the court-yard
before the palace, and try to drive a hard
bargain. Unless their demands are at once
complied with they use threatening words, and
nothing can be done with them. The Artesian
wells, sunk by order of the German geologist,
have all proved failures, and the cost has
absorbed most of the money in the agent's hands.
Then the locusts destroyed all the maize—nine
thousand acres of Indian corn all devoured by
them. The live stock sent from abroad, the
English cows and pigs, the Spanish merino
sheep, and the Austrian poultry have not thriven.
The cold has killed most of them and the
breeds have become mixed. Only some of
the sheep remain of the pure breed
imported. The trees, too, transplanted from a
distant forest to the garden near the palace,
have withered. Nothing has prospered but
some rye-grass.

This is uncomfortable news, but the colonel
deals it out very glibly, as if he was saying a
lesson learned off by heart. When he has
finished speaking the peasants are admitted. I
notice the agent seizes this opportunity to take
a glass of wine and light his cigarette, to show
that he is on easy and familiar terms with his
employer. The spokesman of the country people
then advances and goes down on his knees
again, all those behind him crossing
themselves. When he rises he speaks for a
considerable time in a low monotonous voice. At
the conclusion of his harangue he kneels down
again and kisses the feet of his landlord. The
peasants have come to ask for a new church.
They have subscribed a considerable sum among
themselves, and they now expect to have the
necessary amount completed. When their
request is granted they go away crossing
themselves and uttering muttered thanks. Then
the business of the day is over.

There are no neighbours; no doctor, lawyer,
nor scholarly priest. All the houses round for a
day's journey are hovels; their inhabitants boors.
There is a colonel of Cossacks and some officers
of his regiment quartered about; but they are
drunken quarrelsome fellows, with whom it is
quite impossible to hold social intercourse. All
we can do is to walk over the estate. There is
neither shooting, fishing, nor saddle-horses. But
I am promised a wolf hunt.

Meantime we start for our ramble over the
home farm. There is no dairy, not a pint of
milk nor a drop of cream, nor a pound of butter,
nor a fresh egg. There are some lean oxen about,
and thousands of sheep. The men and women
on the farm are both dressed alike in the same
untanned sheepskins and knee boots. There is
no difference in their costume, save that the
men wear a black brimless felt hat and the
women tie their heads up with handkerchiefs.
If we meet any man or woman alone there is
the customary salutation on the knees; but I
observe that if two or three peasants are
together they pass us without notice. On
returning home we find a deputation of three