Regaining the main road, Major Burnaby and his companion sped on towards Samara. Their first halting-place was a farmhouse, called Nijny Pegersky Hootor, twenty-five versts from Sizeran, where some men were winnowing corn after a fashion of antediluvian simplicity. Throwing the corn high up into the air with a shovel, they allowed the wind to blow away the husks, and the grain fell upon a carpet laid out to catch it. As for the farmhouse, it was a square wooden building, containing two low but spacious rooms. A large stove of dried clay was so placed as to warm both apartments; and above it, a platform of boards, not more than three feet from the ceiling, supplied the family with sleeping accommodation. On the outside of the building a heavy wooden door opened into a small portico, at one end of which stood the obraz, or image—as usual an appendage to a Russian house, as were the Lares and Penates, or household gods, to a Roman house. The obrazye are made of different patterns, but usually represent a saint or the Trinity; they are executed in silver-gilt on brass relief, and adorned with all kinds of gewgaws. A fresh team having been obtained, the travellers resumed their journey; but the cold had increased, the wind blew more furiously, and their suffering was severe. In thick flakes fell the constant snow, and the driver had much ado to keep the track, while the half-fed horses floundered along heavily, and frequently sank up to the traces in the gathering drift. The cracks of the whip resounded from their jaded flanks like pistol-shots. With sarcastic apostrophes the driver endeavoured to stimulate their progress:— “Oh, sons of animals!” (whack!) “Oh, spoiled one!” (whack!) This to a poor, attenuated brute. “Oh, woolly ones!” (whack, whack, whack!) Here all were upset into a snow-drift, the sleigh being three-parts overturned, and the driver flung in an opposite direction.