I surveyed the Irkutsk market and found several sleighs ‘up’ for sale.  Throughout Siberia a sleigh manufactured at Kazan is preferred, it being better made and more commodious than its rivals.  My attention was called to several vehicles of local manufacture but my friends advised me not to try them.  I sought a Kazanski kibitka and with the aid of an intelligent isvoshchik succeeded in finding one.  Its purchase was accomplished in a manner peculiarly Russian.

The seller was a mischanin or Russian merchant of the peasant class.  Accompanied by a friend I called at his house and our negotiation began over a lunch and a bottle of nalifka.  We said nothing on the subject nearest my heart and his, for at least a half hour, but conversed on general topics.  My friend at length dropped a hint that I thought of taking up my residence at Irkutsk.  This was received with delight, and a glass of nalifka, supplementary to at least half a dozen glasses I had already swallowed.

“Why don’t you come to sleighs at once, and settle the matter?” I asked.  “He probably knows what we want, and if we keep on at this rate I shall need a sleigh to go home in.”

“Don’t be impatient,” said my friend; “you don’t understand these people; you must angle them gently.  When you want to make a trade, begin a long way from it.  If you want to buy a horse, pretend that you want to sell a cow, but don’t mention the horse at first.  If you do you will never succeed.”

We hedged very carefully and finally reached the subject.  This was so overpowering that we took a drink while the merchant ordered the sleigh dragged into the court yard.  We had another glass before we adjourned for the inspection, a later one when we returned to the house, and another as soon as we were seated.  After this our negotiations proceeded at a fair pace, but there were many vacuums of language that required liquid filling.  After endeavoring to lower his price, I closed with him and we clenched the bargain with a drink.  Sleighs were in great demand, as many persons were setting out for Russia, and I made sure of my purchase by paying on the spot and taking a glass of nalifka.  As a finale to the transaction, he urged me to drink again, begged my photograph, and promised to put an extra something to the sleigh.

The Siberian peasant classes are much like the Chinese in their manner of bargaining.  Neither begins at the business itself, but at something entirely different.  A great deal of time, tea, and tobacco is consumed before the antagonists are fairly met.  When the main subject is reached they gradually approach and conclude the bargain about where both expected and intended.  An American would come straight to the point, and dealing with either of the above races his bluntness would endanger the whole affair.  In many matters this patient angling is advantageous, and nowhere more so than in diplomacy.  Every one will doubtless acknowledge the Russians unsurpassed in diplomatic skill.  They possess the faculty of touching gently, and playing with their opponents, to a higher degree than any nation of Western Europe.  Other things being equal, this ability will bring success.