Its lower town contains little else than small shops, storehouses, poor hotels, and steamboat offices.  The Kremlin, or fortress, looks down from a very picturesque position, and its strong walls have a defiant air.  From the edge of the bluff the view is wide; the low field and forest land on the opposite side of the river, the sinuous Volga and its tributary, the Oka, are all visible for a long distance.  Opposite, on a tongue of land between the Volga and the Oka, is the scene of the fair of Nijne Novgorod, the greatest, I believe, in the world.

There are many fine houses in the upper town, with indications of considerable wealth.  I had a letter of introduction to the Chief of Police, Colonel Kretegin, who kindly showed me the principal objects of interest in and around the Kremlin.  The monument to the memory of Minin Sukhoruky possessed the greatest historical importance.  This man, a peasant and butcher, believed himself called to deliver Russia from the Poles in 1612.  He awakened his countrymen, and joined a Russian noble in leading them to expel the invaders.  A bronze monument at Moscow represents Minin starting on his mission.  The memorial at Nijne is of a less elaborate character.

We drove through the fair grounds, which wore as empty of occupants as Goldsmith’s deserted village.  It is laid out like a regular town or city, and most of its houses are substantially built.  So much has been written about this commercial center that I will not attempt its description, especially as I was not there in fair season.  The population of the town—­ordinarily forty thousand—­becomes three hundred thousand during the fair.  More than half a million persons have visited the city in a single summer, and the value of goods sold or exchanged during each fair is about two hundred millions of roubles.

Colonel Kretegin told me that the members of the Fox embassy were much astonished at finding American goods for sale at Nijne Novgorod.  It would be difficult to mention any part of the civilized world where some article of our manufacture has not penetrated.

[Illustration:  TAIL PIECE]

CHAPTER LII.

At the close of the second day at Nijne Novgorod I started for Moscow.  As we drove from the hotel to the railway the jackdaws, perched everywhere on the roofs, were unusually noisy.  Leaving Asia and entering Europe, the magpie seemed to give place to the jackdaw.  The latter bird inhabits the towns and cities east of the Ural mountains, and we frequently saw large flocks searching the debris along the Volga road.  He associates freely with the pigeon, and appears well protected by public sentiment.  Possibly his uneatable character and his fancied resemblance to the pigeon saves him from being knocked in the head.  Pigeons are very abundant in all Russian cities, and their tameness is a matter of remark among foreign visitors.

The railway station is across the Oka and near the site of the annual fair.  We went at a smashing pace down hill and over the ice to the other side, narrowly missing several collisions.  At the railway I fell to the charge of two porters, who carried my baggage while I sought the ticket office.  A young woman speaking French officiated at the desk, and furnished me with a billet de voyage to Moscow.