“Don’t be impatient,” said my friend; “you don’t understand these people; you must angle them gently. When you want to make a trade, begin a long way from it. If you want to buy a horse, pretend that you want to sell a cow, but don’t mention the horse at first. If you do you will never succeed.”
We hedged very carefully and finally reached the subject. This was so overpowering that we took a drink while the merchant ordered the sleigh dragged into the court yard. We had another glass before we adjourned for the inspection, a later one when we returned to the house, and another as soon as we were seated. After this our negotiations proceeded at a fair pace, but there were many vacuums of language that required liquid filling. After endeavoring to lower his price, I closed with him and we clenched the bargain with a drink. Sleighs were in great demand, as many persons were setting out for Russia, and I made sure of my purchase by paying on the spot and taking a glass of nalifka. As a finale to the transaction, he urged me to drink again, begged my photograph, and promised to put an extra something to the sleigh.
The Siberian peasant classes are much like the Chinese in their manner of bargaining. Neither begins at the business itself, but at something entirely different. A great deal of time, tea, and tobacco is consumed before the antagonists are fairly met. When the main subject is reached they gradually approach and conclude the bargain about where both expected and intended. An American would come straight to the point, and dealing with either of the above races his bluntness would endanger the whole affair. In many matters this patient angling is advantageous, and nowhere more so than in diplomacy. Every one will doubtless acknowledge the Russians unsurpassed in diplomatic skill. They possess the faculty of touching gently, and playing with their opponents, to a higher degree than any nation of Western Europe. Other things being equal, this ability will bring success.
There are several descriptions of sleigh for Siberian travel. At the head, stands the vashok, a box-like affair with a general resemblance to an American coach on runners. It has a door at each side and glass windows and is long enough for one to lie at full length.
A VASHOK.
Three persons with limited baggage can find plenty of room in a vashok. A kibitka is shaped much like a tarantass, or like a New England chaise stretched to about seven feet long by four in width. There is a sort of apron that can be let down from the hood and fastened with straps and buckles to the boot. The boot can be buttoned to the sides of the vehicle and completely encloses the occupants. The vashok is used by families or ladies, but the kibitka is generally preferred by men on account of the ability to open it in fine weather, and close it at night or in storms.
A sleigh much like this but less comfortable is called a povoska. In either of them, the driver sits on the forward part with his feet hanging over the side. His perch is not very secure, and on a rough road he must exercise care to prevent falling off. “Why don’t you have a better seat for your driver?” I asked of my friend, when negotiating for a sleigh. “Oh,” said he, “this is the best way as he cannot go to sleep. If he had a better place he would sleep and lose time by slow traveling.”
A sleigh much used by Russian merchants is shaped like an elongated mill-hopper. It has enormous carrying capacity, and in bad weather can be covered with matting to exclude cold and snow. It is large, heavy, and cumbersome, and adapted to slow travel, and when much luggage is to be carried. All these concerns are on runners about thirty inches apart, and generally shod with iron. On each side there is a fender or outrigger which serves the double purpose of diminishing injury from collisions and preventing the overturn of the sleigh. It is a stout pole attached to the forward end of the sleigh, and sloping downward and outward toward the rear where it is two feet from the runner, and held by strong braces. On a level surface it does not touch the snow, but should the sleigh tilt from any cause the outrigger will generally prevent an overturn. In collision with other sleighs, the fender plays an important part. I have been occasionally dashed against sleds and sleighs when the chances of a smash-up appeared brilliant. The fenders met like a pair of fencing foils, and there was no damage beyond the shock of our meeting.
