Mr. Oliphant, in his interesting account of his voyage down the Volga, mentions having fallen in with a vulgar landowner, who was addicted to habits of intemperance, and who was the envy of all because he was rich enough to become intoxicated on English bottled porter. Undoubtedly there are such low characters to be met with, but I believe they form exceptions to the general rule, for I must say that, as far as it was possible for me to judge, the landed proprietors in Russia are for the most part a very different class of individuals; they are not perhaps very refined or well-informed—far from it; and it is not possible that in the existing state of things they could become so. Many of them live with their families on their estates, surrounded by their serfs; their mode of existence is monotonous enough, and only varied by an occasional visit to the capital, or to the neighbouring town; the friends with whom they are acquainted are similarly situated with themselves. When we consider the immense distance the cities are apart, the total want of good roads, and the wide extent of their estates, it would be ridiculous to expect the high polish and great information that can only be attained by constant intercourse in good society and in civilized capitals. Supposing that a century ago, in the times of our fox-hunting squires, a traveller had accidentally met one of them in an intoxicated state on board of a Yarmouth hoy; he certainly, if he had no other opportunity of judging of the state of civilization in the rural districts of England, would have entertained anything but an exalted idea of its excellence. As far as it has been possible for a lady to remark, I have every reason to feel respect for the country ladies and gentlemen of the interior of Russia. Their hospitality is unbounded; they are, for the most part, humane to the serfs, are kind-hearted in the true sense of the word, and exceedingly amiable and polite to foreigners. There is very little ceremony, but much more heartiness in their welcome, and, rather than allow their guests to return home at night, they will put themselves to any inconvenience, and turn every apartment in the house into a sleeping-room, cause beds to be made up on sofas and chairs, and find accommodation for a couple of dozen acquaintances with as little care about the trouble it gives them as if it were merely a shake-down of straw in the stable: their principal concern is that everybody should be as comfortable as possible and _sans gêne_ in their house; and what is more, the guests are welcome to stay as long as they please—one night or six.