It is but fair to add that the ordinary Russian peasant, though in some respects extremely credulous, and, like all other people, subject to occasional panics, is by no means easily frightened by real dangers.  Those who have seen them under fire will readily credit this statement.  For my own part, I have had opportunities of observing them merely in dangers of a non-military kind, and have often admired the perfect coolness displayed.  Even an epidemic alarms them only when it attains a certain degree of intensity.  Once I had a good opportunity of observing this on board a large steamer on the Volga.  It was a very hot day in the early autumn.  As it was well known that there was a great deal of Asiatic cholera all over the country, prudent people refrained from eating much raw fruit; but Russian peasants are not generally prudent men, and I noticed that those on board were consuming enormous quantities of raw cucumbers and water-melons.  This imprudence was soon followed by its natural punishment.  I refrain from describing the scene that ensued, but I may say that those who were attacked received from the others every possible assistance.  Had no unforeseen accident happened, we should have arrived at Kazan on the following morning, and been able to send the patients to the hospital of that town; but as there was little water in the river, we had to cast anchor for the night, and next morning we ran aground and stuck fast.  Here we had to remain patiently till a smaller steamer hove in sight.  All this time there was not the slightest symptom of panic, and when the small steamer came alongside there was no frantic rush to get away from the infected vessel, though it was quite evident that only a few of the passengers could be taken off.  Those who were nearest the gangway went quietly on board the small steamer, and those who were less fortunate remained patiently till another steamer happened to pass.

The old conceptions of disease, as something that may be most successfully cured by charms and similar means, are rapidly disappearing.  The Zemstvo—­that is to say, the new local self-government—­has done much towards this end by enabling the people to procure better medical attendance.  In the towns there are public hospitals, which generally are—­or at least seem to an unprofessional eye—­in a very satisfactory condition.  The resident doctors are daily besieged by a crowd of peasants, who come from far and near to ask advice and receive medicines.  Besides this, in some provinces feldshers are placed in the principal villages, and the doctor makes frequent tours of inspection.  The doctors are generally well-educated men, and do a large amount of work for a very small remuneration.

Of the lunatic asylums, which are generally attached to the larger hospitals, I cannot speak very favourably.  Some of the great central ones are all that could be desired, but others are badly constructed and fearfully overcrowded.  One or two of those I visited appeared to me to be conducted on very patriarchal principles, as the following incident may illustrate.