three centuries ago; but the town, as a whole, has a European rather
than an Asiatic character. If any one visits it in the hope of getting
"a glimpse of the East," he will be grievously disappointed, unless,
indeed, he happens to be one of those imaginative tourists who always
discover what they wish to see. And yet it must be admitted that, of
all the towns on the route, Kazan is the most interesting. Though
not Oriental, it has a peculiar character of its own, whilst all the
others--Simbirsk, Samara, Saratof--are as uninteresting as Russian
provincial towns commonly are. The full force and solemnity of that
expression will be explained in the sequel.

Probably about sunrise on the third day something like a range of
mountains will appear on the horizon. It may be well to say at once, to
prevent disappointment, that in reality nothing worthy of the name
of mountain is to be found in that part of the country. The nearest
mountain-range in that direction is the Caucasus, which is hundreds of
miles distant, and consequently cannot by any possibility be seen from
the deck of a steamer. The elevations in question are simply a low range
of hills, called the Zhigulinskiya Gori. In Western Europe they would
not attract much attention, but "in the kingdom of the blind," as the
French proverb has it, "the one-eyed man is king"; and in a flat region
like Eastern Russia these hills form a prominent feature. Though they
have nothing of Alpine grandeur, yet their well-wooded slopes, coming
down to the water's edge--especially when covered with the delicate
tints of early spring, or the rich yellow and red of autumnal
foliage--leave an impression on the memory not easily effaced.

On the whole--with all due deference to the opinions of my patriotic
Russian friends--I must say that Volga scenery hardly repays the time,
trouble and expense which a voyage from Nizhni to Tsaritsin demands.