I have rarely seen a more touching and adorable tableau than this little group of fair heads, celebrating, with the warbling pure voice of early childhood, the most poetic episode of sacred history. Is there really any day more appropriate for singing? Indeed, I have always thought that if God should, for an instant, lift the veil from the supernal world on Christmas Day, we should see passing, to and fro, groups of innocents, around whom was resounding sweet music, breathing peace and joy to man below. The little children, who thus agreeably surprised us at so early an hour at Camechlof, suggested to my imagination a flock wandering from this celestial host.
This vision, brief like their visit, had hardly vanished when we saw appearing from the other side—the mundane this time—a young couple, accompanied by a nurse, carrying a very young infant. “Ivan Michäelovitch,” exclaimed Constantine. “Madame Nemptchinof,” cried Mrs. Grant, and then followed hand-shaking and embracing; we were again among acquaintances.
This Madame Nemptchinof was the wife of a tea merchant of Kiachta, who, notwithstanding her advanced interesting situation, had been to see one of her daughters at a boarding school in Moscow; her son had accompanied her, and the little being that had come into the world during the journey was now on its way to Kiachta.
In our country, undoubtedly, few women would have been equal to the task of undertaking such a journey, especially under such circumstances; in Russia, however, such an enterprise is not at all rare.
Then, before we had finished our tea, another group of children entered, singing the same song, but these would speedily have dispelled any lingering vision of cherubs had any now remained, for these earth-born, unlicked cubs were clearly unhallowed and unlovely.
Having now sufficiently rested, we resumed our journey.
The horse, placed in the centre before the Siberian troïka, has its collar always surmounted by a bow, which serves as a stay or spring, to keep the shafts apart, and these are, at the same time, kept in their places together by a stretched cord. The collar, sustained by the bow above and resting on this cord, no longer weighs on the neck of the horse, and thereby diminishes its fatigue. This system of harnessing is really quite ingenious. Five or six bells are generally suspended from the bow, and the lively ringing of these relieves a little the monotony of the journey.
Our departure from Camechlof, with the bells of our caravan of four sledges in movement, was rather a noisy one. M. Pfaffius and his servant led the way; then followed, in a second sledge, Mrs. Grant and Miss Campbell; I occupied with Constantine the third, and Madame Nemptchinof and her smalah brought up the rear of the caravan in an enormous closed sledge drawn by four horses.
This part of the journey, if not the most interesting, was at least the most agreeable.
We were a party of seven, and a very convivial party too, that sat down to dinner in the evening. The bill of fare contributed largely to our merriment. Each of us produced our reserves, and it was a charming picnic, that furnished interesting incidents in abundance. We brought forward frozen bread, frozen caviare, frozen preserved fruits, and sausages, so rigid, that they resisted any attempt to yield, even against the knee, whatever force was employed.