mined resistance to spring. Indeed, the latter triumphs completely only when summer comes to her assistance. The most beautiful period of the year then commences. The steppes are covered with a brilliant green, enameled with tulips and hyacinths. You must not however suppose that the flowers are like the fine specimens imported from Holland, or that the grass is at all like that of our cultivated fields. He must be a brave sleeper who could enjoy a siesta upon its stiff blades.

During the month of May storms are very frequent. Rain gives way entirely in June to the dry season. In July the surface of the parched earth is marked with cracks, the soil becomes black, and vegetation disappears. Lakes and pools of water are transformed into sand-plains; water becomes so valuable that sentinels guard it night and day, to prevent robbers from approaching it. Men and animals suffer cruelly from hunger and thirst, and thou- | sands of horses and cattle perish. The African Sahara, or the Slanos of South America, are not as difficult to travel in the summer season as the steppes of Southern Russia. Toward the latter part of August, dews again refresh the earth, storms are frequent, and sometimes the rain falls upon the exhausted soil; verdure reappears, and all living beings seem to come forth in a resurrection. September is one of the most beautiful months; but October succeeds it with chilling fogs and desolating rains.

But of all the plagues suffered by the inhabitants of the steppes, the most disastrous, and therefore the most dreaded, are the locust invasions. When the first German settlers came into the country, two varieties of this insect were known to exist; their increase was not rapid, and they had not been regarded as objects to be feared. In 1820, it was noticed that their numbers had multiplied alarmingly, and in some of the ensuing years they caused great devastation. In 1828, troop after troop of them invaded the country, in such dense masses that they obscured the light of the sun; they destroyed the harvests, and in several localities they left no traces of vegetation behind them. The poor terrified colonists thought the day of judgment had come. In their dismay they took counsel of their Tartar and Russian neighbors, who were not less

person among them had no recollection of similar depredations; but most of them remembered the tales which their fathers had told respecting these terrible invaders. The Germans, however, determined to adopt measures which should protect them from similar attacks; and for this purpose they established a kind of police. Whoever first perceived a cloud of locusts, gave information to the inhabitants by an understood signal; men, women, children, all who could walk, armed themselves with bells, kettles, drums, guns, anything in fact which would add to the racket, in order to frighten the invaders from the locality. They were frequently successful; though it was generally found that smoke produced the most immediate effect, especially if thick and odorous. Sometimes, however, the winged enemy was able to extinguish the very flames which were kindled to exterminate them. The lower strata of insects were pressed into the fire in such numbers, by the masses above them, that the latter escaped uninjured, and were ready to return to the conflict. Not unfrequently similar escapes take place when they are driven into the lakes or the sea. The numberless swarms form floating islands upon the surface of the water, which are submerged if the wind is violent; but if the breeze is gentle, they are wafted in safety to the shores, where, after drying their wings, they ascend with unbroken spirit to scent out new fields for their ravages.

These insects show a decided preference for the gardens surrounding habitations. A village to the right or left of their direction never fails to attract them. It is impossible to describe the consternation of the inhabitants who have failed in their efforts to remove this plague of ancient times. The doomed field, orchard, or garden, where they alight, is covered by them to the depth of several inches, while waiting myriads above them intercept the very light of the sun. Windows. doors, and even chimneys are carefully closed to prevent their entrance into the houses.

The most numerous swarms are seen in August. They seldom set forth on their marauding excursions earlier than eight or nine o'clock in the morning, and sometimes they stop only at midnight. An ordinary swarm is generally nearly a

meet, transforming an oasis into a desert in a few hours. The Russians say of them, that they bite like horses, eat like wolves, and digest more speedily than any

other animal.

While still lingering on the verge of the stupendous realm of the czar, I feel tempted to fill out my letter with these retrospective glances before I take leave of it forever. I have, en passant, referred to some of the moral and social aspects of the country; but my descriptions would be incomplete without more definitive remarks.

Let us commence then at the summit of this governmental pyramid, upon the very apex of which stands Czar Nicholas -a worthy figure too, in its colossal magnitude, to finish this type of a half-barbaric nation. With the representation of his person you are perhaps as familiar as with that of any European sovereign, and the more remarkable traits of his character have been many times described. His figure is the very ideal of a monarch, and the Russian boast that a stranger would select their emperor from a crowd is a true one. This is no small distinction for the ruler of a nation like that of Russia, which physical strength can never fail to impress more profoundly than the highest mental resources. His tall, commanding figure would compel the obedience of his people, while a less august presence would fail, though possessed of superior intellectual powers. In the earlier history of Greece he would have been worshiped as a demigod.

A lady traveler describes the czar's personnel in so graphic and detailed a manner, that I give it to you in preference to any description of my own :

"His figure, to which there is no second in Russia, if in the world itself, is of the grandest beauty, expression, dimension, and carriage, uniting all the majesties and graces of all the heathen gods-the little god of love alone perhaps excepted. Had these ample and symmetrical proportions, this nobility of person, belonged to a common mujik, instead of to the Autocrat of all the Russias, admiration could not be less, nor scarcely the feeling of moral awe. It was not the monarch who was so magnificent a man, but the man who was so truly imperial. His person is that of a colossal man, in the full prime of life and health, fortytwo years of age, about six feet two inches high, and well filled out without any approach to corpulency, the head very magnificently carried, a splendid breadth of shoulder and chest, great length and symmetry of limb, with finelyformed hands and feet. His face is strictly Grecian: forehead and nose in one grand line, VOL. V.-28

the eyes finely lined, large, open and blue, with a calmness and coldness, a freezing dignity, which can equally quell an insurrection, daunt an assassin, or paralyze a petitioner; the mouth regular, teeth fine, chin prominent, with dark mustache and small whiskers, but not a sympathy on his face! His mouth sometimes There is that in his smiles, his eyes never. look which no monarch's subject can meet. His eye seeks every one's gaze, but none can confront his."

It may be imagined what such a man, combining in his august person the temporal and spiritual supremacy, must be to a people whose political and social relations are based upon a kind of patriarchal hierarchy, like that of most Eastern nations, recognizing but the one principle of unconditional obedience. The simple expression Pikas-it is ordered-comprises all the reasoning ever addressed to the people; and its effect is immediate and magical. The czar is their father,—not so much in the paternal instincts with which he is supposed to regard them, as in the absolute authority which he is compelled from his position to maintain over them. They are like a hive of bees, in helpless confusion without a ruler; without one they have no conceptions of self-reliance or self-government. The father, they say, does not receive his rights from his children, but from God; and to him alone he must answer for the use which he makes of them. The slightest restriction upon the imperial authority would be an unheard-of innovation. God and the czar are called "Father," the Church is their mother, and the empire is "Holy Mother Russia;" the ancient capital is "Holy Mother Moscow," and the road from it to Vladimir is called "Our Dear Mother the High Road to Vladimir." The River Volga is also always spoken of as Mother Volga. So literally is this idea of the imperial supremacy inculcated and received by the people, that when the priest in the sacramental service divides the bread into its seven parts, he blesses the first in honor of the reigning family, and the remaining portions in memory of Christ, the Virgin Mary, and the lesser consecrated names.

Those, however, who have studied the character and institutions of the Muscovite empire most carefully, though admitting the main truth of these statements, tell us that within the last twenty years public opinion has materially changed. Though the peasants still venerate the czar, the