nothing for good name in trade, or for the
prospect of future transactions with the person
whom he serves. He is no speculator, even for
his own benefit; he does not look past the first
haul; and he gets the better of his customers,
if he can, on all occasions. If he can reduce
the quality of his goods while maintaining their
appearance and prices, he is triumphant and
will cross himself in thankful devotion before
his joss. I would be loth to libel any class of
men, but I appeal to every Englishman who has
been in Russia, and has had dealings with the
natives, for a confirmation of my own twelve
years' experience. I appeal to their own saying
that "a Jew in bargain is outdone by an
Armenian, but a Russian can outwit them both."
There is no denying that a Russian moushick
merchant is in all commercial dealings an
incorrigible cheat. It takes more than a wide-awake
Yankee to make a " deal" with a Muscovite.

The emperor, always honest and earnest for
the improvement of the country, on his last
visit to Moscow called together a number of
the principal merchants and manufacturers, and
remonstrated with them on this prevailing bad
practice. Great complaints had been made to
him by his political agents, in those countries
which bought from Russia, regarding the wholesale
and shameful cheating used by the Moscow
merchant's in their dealings with the Orientals.
They had, it seemed, not only reduced the
qualities of their merchandise to the lowest
possible degree, but had sometimes even packed
the insides of their bales with rubbish, leaving
a slight coating of the real article at the top and
bottom. This conduct had given the government
agents great trouble in forming treaties
and commercial relations, and if not abandoned
would bring down upon them (the emperor
justly told the merchants) the ruin of their
trade. This friendly and sensible remonstrance
was accepted by some of them in good and
honest faith; they pleaded guilty and promised
reformation. Whether the promise has been
kept, it is not yet possible to know.

A fair glimpse of the condition of a people
may be got through their commercial character.
For this reason, I turn from the merchant
arraigned before the Czar, to the shopkeeper in
the market or bazaar. The system of chaffering,
bargaining, beating-down, and wrestling (so to
speak), for copecks, is almost universal. I don't
think there are half a dozen shops in Moscow
and Petersburg together, that sell on the
principle of a fixed price, and no abatement. Trade
is huckstering, and no common huckstering
either; it is hard work—like nothing in
England but the sale of an old cow or horse, at a
country fair, by a veteran cow or horse couper.
To come off with a few articles bought at their
value is a work of time, patience, and skill. A
newly imported foreigner, of whatever nation, is
a mark for plunder. If he go alone to buy, he
falls an easy prey. If he be accompanied by
professional interpreters, it is not much better,
as the shopkeeper expects the interpreter to call
next day for twenty or thirty per cent commission
on any purchase made. Let me illustrate
the system by a case (not uncommon) which is
my own case.

I often prefer to do my own bargaining, and
being in want of a pair of long fur boots and
a portmanteau, before taking a southern survey,
I passed all the English magazines, the German,
French, and other foreign establishments in
Blacksmiths Bridge-street, and descended to the
lower regions of Moscow, called the town or
"gorod." This part is the old capital of
Russia, and walled round, having the Kremlin
in the centre. The entrance is under a heavy
arch, guarded by images and lamps. One ought
to feel, the more secure from knavery after
passing these representatives of saints, 'but let
the Englishman here mount guard over his own
pockets.

My search was along the interminable lines
of dark booths, which constitute the "Gostino
Dvor," or favourite market-place (and here it is
always twilight: that being the light in which a
customer should examine what an able trader
has to sell). At length, after an hour's search, I
found the line sacred to Crispin and leather
goods, and was hauled into one of its booths by
the touter at the door. At first, I could not
discern objects distinctly; but when my eyes had
adapted themselves to the obscure light of the
place, I saw the presiding genius bending before
me, in the shape of a venerable mild-visaged
man, with flowing beard, who held in one hand
a tumbler of smoking tea, and in the other a
lump of black bread, on which was a quantity of
salt, and half a raw herring. He took the last
gulp of his tea, laid down his delicious
sandwich, ran his dirty hands through his great
beard, stroked it affectionately, rubbed off the
remaining grease of his hands on his caftan,
turned reverentially to the joss in the corner,
crossed himself, and then signified his desire to
know what I might want? How could such a
man be an extortioner! See his frugality—black
bread and herring. Look at his shop: a mere
booth, containing no expensive shopmen.
Besides, has he not in my presence just appealed to
Heaven? Surely that is a guarantee for fair
and honest dealing. Let us see.

"I want," I said, "a pair of the best fur
boots, and a good portmanteau."

Although the walls and ceiling were crowded
with all kinds of articles of his calling, he began
to pull out a large drawer. The handle came
off while he pulled, and he fell back on a great
pyramid of boxes, boots, portmanteaus, and
trunks, built up in the centre of the floor,
overturning the whole in a confused mass.

"Ough!" he said, "God help me! This is
an unlucky omen." And again he crossed
himself, with a view, as I supposed, to a fresh
start. The wreck having been put to rights, and
the drawer opened at length, the dealer
produced a pair of long boots lined with fur.

"There, your honour, is the very thing you
want. Most excellent boots; of the best quality
to be found in Moscow. Yea Boch!" (God's
truth.)