I immediately, according to a rule I had made for myself, went to appear before the mayor of the city. The local Governor, Mr. Kaznacheev, received me kindly and offered his benefits and patronage during my tour of his province. It is remarkable that everywhere in Russia the governors of the provinces politely and favorably receive all travelers, and are always ready to provide them with all the benefits that depend on them. After spending some time with Mr. Kaznacheev, I went wandering around the city. Passing the Salgirsky Bridge, I decided to go into the mill: it was grinding, but there was neither a miller nor a single worker in it. Two young Tatars who arrived with the grind sat in the corner and diligently played cards! They did not turn to me, and perhaps they did not notice my entrance; I noticed that both were very excited and shouted, continuing their game. It seemed curious to me to see the Tatars in the wilderness of Taurida, playing a game invented for the amusement of the mad king of France. I approached them; Copper and small silver money lay in front of them, and they were playing with three leaves, and, without bothering me at all, they continued to play. I left them in this exercise, thinking that we had not yet had time to enlighten the Tatars, but had already brought them the beginning of debauchery and a passion for the love of money. There is no doubt that they learned to play from our soldiers or canteens.
I returned to my apartment, to the hotel of the Frenchman Amable. While serving me at dinner, the Frenchman managed to tell me that he was an excellent cook, served in St. Petersburg in some noble house, and, having saved up some money (probably from grains from the meal of his rich master), decided to open a restaurant in Crimea; but that these Tatars are true barbarians, they don’t come to dine with him, they don’t understand anything, and they’ve never even asked for pork legs with truffles; that his cold pates aux perdrix rôties often spoil while waiting for a buyer; that Russian officials and only two people passing through a day will visit it. “I feel,” he added, “that I was mistaken in my speculation. This unenlightened country is not worthy of such talent!” He intended to leave his craft and do something else, “like raising children.” I undoubtedly agreed with him over his watery soup and tough steak, and began to get ready for the road.
Having hired a translator and guide, the Tatar Seid, I went with him the next day on horseback to the midday coast of the Crimea. My stroller was driving behind me. Delightful pictures appeared from all sides. Chatyrdag with a chain of mountains surrounding it; beautiful valleys between them, shaded by trees; the incessantly meandering Salgir, which I had to ford several times along this road - all this involuntarily leads to fascination. Soon after leaving the city, I passed the Russian village of Petrovskoye, and at the second mile the beautiful dacha of Mrs. Naryshkina, née Countess Rostopchina. Next you need to climb the hill and then go down into the valley. Here the pictures are just as pleasant, but they are gloomier. Many wild goats crossed my path or appeared on the slopes of the mountains and enlivened the scene. The meadows and copses were dotted with milkweed in full bloom, and I had never seen so many of this plant anywhere. The pleasant spring weather and these lively, fresh impressions made my journey enjoyable.
I reached Kilburun, the estate of L.A. Perovsky, and regretted that he was not at home: we are old acquaintances and have not seen each other for a very long time. I was disposed to rest with him and talk with him; but it was necessary to continue the journey. Kilburun is a very wonderful place for travelers: it is surrounded by beautiful groves; The paths around the house are outlined with taste. It is near Salgir, on a hill. It has gardens, one of the best vegetable gardens in the Crimea, and quite a few meadows, arable lands and forests: all this makes it a rich estate.