There may have been more bark than bite to this Jablonsky; yet his proclamation suggested anything but a peaceful railway journey. Toward ten o’clock that evening my luggage was transferred to a cab, and as I appeared in the hotel doorway my friend, the Herr proprietor, once more came forward. “To-day it is quiet, yes. But to-morrow--,” and the expressive shrug of his fat German shoulders eloquently vouched for his genuine concern for my welfare--or his pocketbook--who shall say which? The luxurious comfort of the _wagon-lits_ soon dispelled the nervousness created by my stay in Berlin, and the next forenoon, as we rattled across the snow-screened plains of the north, I serenely accepted the counsel of a Russian fellow-traveler and deliberately ripped off the binding of a certain “forbidden” book which I carried, that I might wrap the printed pages about my body, next to my underclothing, to escape its confiscation. The book was Peter Kropotkin’s “Russian Literature,” which I thought I might find a useful book of reference. The last station in Germany was passed at noon. From here on our speed was noticeably lessened. We rolled noisily past the frozen fields which lie in the narrow strath that marks the dividing-line between the two countries. An ice-bound creek running through the strath was crossed by a small trestle. Close by this miniature bridge a Russian soldier in the characteristic coarse brown coat presented arms. As I looked out upon him I laughingly touched my cap in salute, and his peasant face broke into a broad grin that fairly beamed of friendliness. That smile softened my crude, preconceived notion of Russian soldiers many degrees, and during the thousands of miles that I was presently to travel in the Frozen Kingdom, I always remembered the smile that greeted me when first I crossed the border, and it was rarely indeed that I did not find a cordial response where I spoke a friendly word, or extended a friendly hand. At Wirballen we changed trains, passed the customs, surrendered our passports for examination and viséing, and submitted to whatever other routine the officers required. Gendarmes swarmed everywhere. The prominence of their arms excited my interest. Swords clanked noisily at their heels, striking the ground with each step they took, large revolvers were attached with threatening convenience to their belts, and always outside of their handsome, gray, winter coats.