“Now for it,” I whispered to the good-natured doctor, as we waked the smotretal.  “Make him think our papers are important.”

The official rubbed his eyes over the passport, and then hastened to arouse the starost.  The latter ordered horses from the village without delay.

It had been a fete-day in honor of the Emperor, and most of the villagers were drunk, so that it required some time to assemble the requisite yemshicks and horses.  A group of men and women from an evening party passed the station, and amused us with native songs.  An inebriated moujik, riding on a small sled, turned from the road to enter the station yard.  One side of the sled passed over a log, and as the man had not secured his balance, he rolled out of sight in a snow drift.  I watched him as he emerged, much as Neptune might appear from the crest of a foamy wave.

The Siberians keep all the Imperial fete-days with scrupulous exactness, and their loyalty to the emperor is much akin to religious awe.  The whole Imperial family is the object of great respect, and whatever is commanded in the name of the emperor meets the most cheerful acquiescence.  One finds the portrait of Alexander in almost every house, and I never heard the name of that excellent ruler mentioned disrespectfully.  If His Majesty would request that his subjects abstain from vodki drinking on Imperial fete-days, he would do much toward their prosperity.  It would be an easy beginning in the cause of temperance, as no one could consider it out of place for the emperor to prescribe the manner of celebrating his own festivals.  The work once begun in this way, would be likely to lead to good results.  Drunkenness is the great vice of the Russian peasant, and will never be suppressed without the active endeavors of the government.

[Illustration:  DOWN HILL.]

When we started from the station we ran against the gate post, and were nearly overturned in consequence.  My head came against the side of the sleigh with a heavy thump that affected me more than it did the vehicle.  We descended a long hill at a full run, and as our yemshick was far from sober I had a lively expectation of a general smash at the bottom.

About half way down the descent we met a sleigh and dashed our fenders against it.  The strong poles rubbed across each other like fencing foils, and withstood the shock finely.

At sunset there were indications of a snow storm, in the gradual ascent of the thermometer.  An hour past midnight the temperature was above freezing point, and the sleigh runners lost that peculiar ringing sound that indicates cold weather.  I threw off my furs and endeavored to sleep, but accomplished little in that direction.  My clothing was too thick or too thin.  Without my furs I shivered, and with them I perspired.  My sleigh robe was too much for comfort, and the absence of it left something to be desired.  Warm weather is a great inconvenience in a Siberian winter journey.  The best temperature for travel is from five to fifteen degrees below the freezing point.