It would have been impossible to travel more rapidly than we did from Stavropol to the Don. The steppe is as smooth as a mirror, and the posting better conducted than in any other part. We no sooner reached a station, than horses, which had been brought out the moment we were descried, were put to, and galloped away with us without a moment's check to the next station. A temperature of at least 20 deg. Reaumer, the beauty of the sky, and something light and joyous in the atmosphere, kept us in the highest spirits. In no country have I ever seen such multitudes of gossamer threads. The carriage, the horses, and our clothes were covered with those glistening prognostics of fair weather.
As we advanced towards the abodes of civilisation, our thoughts were all about the pleasure of arriving at Taganrok, to find our letters, our friends, our European habits again, and the comforts of which for many months we had enjoyed but casual snatches. We rejoiced, therefore, in the speed with which we got over the ground, and scarcely cared to bestow a glance on the stanitzas that fled away behind us. In passing through a Russian village, however, we were constrained to bestow some attention on outward objects, our carriage being stopped by a wedding party that filled the whole street. We counted a dozen pavosks filled with young people of both sexes. The girls, with their heads bedizened with ribbons, screamed almost like savages, and rivalled the young men in impudence and coarseness. It was a disgusting spectacle. The bride differed from the rest only by the greater profusion of ribbons and flowers that formed her head-gear; her face was as red, her gestures as indelicate, and her voice as loud and shrill as those of her companions.
It may seem scarcely credible, but we were but two-and-twenty hours travelling 316 versts, between Stavropol and the Don. We ate and slept in the carriage, and only alighted at the river side, where all sorts of tribulations awaited us. I cannot at this moment think of that memorable night without wondering at the pertinacity with which ill-luck clings to us when once it has fastened upon us. At ten at night, when we were some little way from the Don, we were told that the bridge was in a very bad state, and that we should probably be obliged to wait till the next day, before we could cross it. Such a delay was not what we had bargained for, especially as we had reckoned on enjoying that very night a good supper and a good bed under a friendly roof in Rostof. Then the weather, which had been so mild, had suddenly turned chill, and this was another motive to haste; so we went on without heeding what was told us; but when we came to the river, the tokens that the bridge was out of order, were but too manifest. Several carts stood there unyoked, and peasants lay beside them, patiently waiting the daylight. These men reiterated the bad news we had already heard; but then it was only eleven o'clock; if we waited we should have to pass nearly seven hours in the britchka, exposed to the cold night air, whereas once on the other side, we should reach Rostof in two hours. This consideration was too potent to allow of our receding from our purpose. At the same time we neglected no precaution that prudence required. The coachman and the Cossack were sent forward with a lantern to make a reconnaissance, and returning in half an hour, they reported that the passage was not quite impracticable, only it would be necessary to be very cautious, for some parts of the bridge were so weak, that any imprudence might be fatal to us.