sleep. They leave that for the winter, when they shut themselves up
like dormice in their hovels, their store of food and vodka buried
underneath the floor. For days together they sleep, then wake and
dig, then sleep again.

The Russian party lasts all night. In an adjoining room are beds and
couches; half a dozen guests are always sleeping. An hour contents
them, then they rejoin the company, and other guests take their
places. The Russian eats when he feels so disposed; the table is
always spread, the guests come and go. Once a year there is a great
feast in Moscow. The Russian merchant and his friends sit down early
in the day, and a sort of thick, sweet pancake is served up hot. The
feast continues for many hours, and the ambition of the Russian
merchant is to eat more than his neighbour. Fifty or sixty of these
hot cakes a man will consume at a sitting, and a dozen funerals in
Moscow is often the result.

An uncivilised people, we call them in our lordly way, but they are
young. Russian history is not yet three hundred years old. They
will see us out, I am inclined to think. Their energy, their
intelligence--when these show above the groundwork--are monstrous. I
have known a Russian learn Chinese within six months. English! they
learn it while you are talking to them. The children play at chess
and study the violin for their own amusement.

The world will be glad of Russia--when she has put her house in
order.