Back from the Volga on this part of the route there were many villages of Cheramess, a people of Tartar descent who preserve many of their ancient customs.  They are thoroughly loyal to Russia, and keep the portrait of the emperor in nearly every cottage.  In accordance with their custom of veiling women they hang a piece of gauze over the picture of the empress.  While changing horses, we were beset by many beggars, whose forlorn appearance entitled them to sympathy.  I purchased a number of blessings, as each beggar made the sign of the cross over me on receiving a copeck.  Russian beggars are the most devout I ever saw, and display great familiarity with the calendar of saints.  One morning at Kazan I stood at my hotel window watching a beggar woman soliciting alms.  Several poorly dressed peasants gave her each a copeck or two, and both giver and receiver made the sign of the cross.  One decrepid old man gave her a loaf of bread, blessing it devoutly as he placed it in her hands.  So far as I saw not a single well dressed person paid any attention to the mendicant.  ’Only the poor can feel for the poor.’

[Illustration:  BEGGARS IN KAZAN.]

We encountered a great deal of merchandise, carried invariably upon, one-horse sleds.  Cotton, and wool in large sacks were the principal freight going westward, while that moving toward Kazan was of a miscellaneous character.  The yemshicks were the worst I found on the whole extent of my sleigh ride.  They generally contented themselves with the regulation speed, and it was not often that the promise of drink-money affected them.  I concluded that money was more easily obtained here than elsewhere on the route.  Ten copecks were an important item to a yemshick in Siberia, but of little consequence along the Volga.

[Illustration:  THE IMMERSION.]

Villages were numerous along the Volga, and most of them were very liberally supplied with churches.  We passed Makarief, which was for many years the scene of the great fair of European Russia.  Fire and flood alike visited the place, and in 1816 the fair was transferred to Nijne Novgorod.  One of the villages has a church spire that leans considerably toward the edge of the river.

About fifty versts from Nijne Novgorod the population of a large village was gathered, in Sunday dress, upon the ice.  A baptism was in progress, and as we drove past the assemblage we caught a glimpse of a man plunging through a freshly cut hole.  Half a minute later he emerged from the crowd and ran toward the nearest house, the water dripping from his garments and hair.  As we passed around the end of the village, I looked back and saw another person running in the same direction.