of marshes, vast downs, huge forests, and hills covered with snow in
the month of September, the time when he began his journey. He had
five horses, each tied to the tail of the one before him, while Ivan
himself was mounted on the first. He was compelled to ride slowly,
casting his eyes every now and then behind to see that all was right.
At night he stretched a bearskin under a bush, lit a huge fire, cooked
a savory mess, and piling clothes over himself, slept. At dawn he
rose, crammed his kettle full of clean snow, put it over the embers,
and made himself tea. With this warm beverage to rouse him, he again
arranged his little caravan, and proceeded on his way. Nothing more
painful than this journey can be conceived. There are scarcely any
marks to denote the road, while lakes, formed by recent inundations,
arrest the traveler every half hour, compelling him to take prodigious
rounds, equally annoying and perplexing.

On the morning of the third day Ivan felt a little puzzled about the
road. He knew the general direction from the distant mountains, and he
wished to avoid a vast morass. Before him was a frozen stream, and on
the other side a hillock. Leaving the others to feed as well as they
could, he mounted his best horse, and rode across. The ice bent under
him as he went, and he accordingly rode gently; but just as he reached
the middle, it cracked violently right across, and sank visibly under
him. Ivan looked hurriedly round him. The ice was everywhere split,
and the next minute his horse, plunging violently, fell through.
Instead, however, of falling into a stream of cold water, Ivan found
himself in a vast and chilly vault, with a small trickling stream in
the middle, and at once recollected a not unfrequent phenomenon. The
river had been frozen over when high with floods, but presently the
water sinking to its ordinary level, the upper crust of ice alone
remained. But Ivan had no desire to admire the gloomy, half-lit vault,