broke in the brother, as he came back, "but in
vain. There is no Dom Douboff in this
neighbourhood."

"Oh," groaned my friend, "what are we to do?"

"Could you," I asked of the Russian gentleman,
"indicate any place where we might find a
droschky? We do not know our road, and we
cannot ask it."

"There are no droschkies nearer than
Moscow."

"Oh!" groaned my friend again, and in such
a tone of misery that no one could resist a smile.

"Well, gentlemen, forgive me if I make a
proposition; but as you are quite astray, will
you come and drink tea at my house? I am
sure my mother will be delighted to see you."

"Certainly she will," chorused the young
ladies.

"Meanwhile," he continued, "I dare say I
can find a messenger to go to Moscow to fetch
you a carriage, unless he can find a stray
droschky nearer."

The invitation was so frankly given, that we
overcame our fear of intrusion, and accompanied
forthwith our new friends.

The house was a very commodious one, like
all the better class of Russian houses, though
there was a good deal more order than is usually
the case. The upper servant was a Frenchman,
and he had evidently drilled his subalterns
out of the shrinking, happy-go-lucky style of
attendance so characteristic of the serfdom out
of which they had scarcely been emancipated.
The room on the ground floor was full of the
knick-knacks and works of art which people
can only collect by travelling—quaint bits of
majolica, little pictures, with painted frames,
copied from Giotto or Bento Angelico, Roman
and Venetian photographs, white marble
statuettes, green marble vases, and some book
slides of Spa and Tollbridge ware. A samovar
boiled, according to Russian custom, in the
verandah; and the garden beyond was trimly
kept. The mother, to whom we were introduced,
had all the charm of the travelled Russian
grande dame. We found in the course of
conversation that her husband had occupied several
posts of importance in the Russian diplomacy,
and she had many anecdotes of Prince
Talleyrand, Pozzo di Borgo, Lords Castlereagh and
Clancarty, and others of that group of celebrities,
who lived before the telegraph had given
the death-blow to diplomatic eminence. And
the whole family conversed with that freshness,
ease, and dignity, which are so eminently
combined in Russian as in Irish women of the
highest order. There was a feeling of home
about the whole thing that resembled old
acquaintance and friendship. The young ladies
sang us songs in Russian, the ditties wild and
gay which you hear from the gipsies, national
melodies, and well-remembered airs from Italy
and France. Nothing could make me better
pleased with Russia than the ease and cheeriness
of this evening; so the droschky, which we
now found, had to wait for us a long time.

We had early presented our hosts with our
cards. In a strange country, let me advise the
traveller to carry with him a good supply of
cards and photographs. For a small civility, a
card is always much appreciated, while a
photograph is a sufficient recompense even for a
service. In Russia the photographs are very
good. There is something in the air which
makes them flattering. Our hosts had bestowed
them liberally on us a likeness of our host, of
his mother, four of his sisters in different attitudes,
besides groups and vignettes. He came
for my friend's.

"You will, I am sure, gratify us by giving
us yours?" said our host; and the ladies put in
a claim also for their albums.

Of course we desired nothing better, but,
alas! we had none with us. Previously to
leaving St. Petersburg, they had been taken by
Mr. Carrick, a Scotch photographer who resides
there, and they were to be ready against our
return.

"But, if you will allow us, we will send
them," I said. "We return to St. Petersburg
to-morrow."

"So soon?" said they all, in a tone which
flattered us.

"So soon," we replied, with sentiment; "alas!
yes."

"But you do not know our names," said one
of the ladies. "I had better write them down
clearly, with our address; and as you have so
many of our portraits, I will make them up
into a packet, with our names, so that you
shall neither forget us nor your promise."

We could only reiterate our thanks, our
promise, and our desire to be useful in England.
The photographs were duly packed up with the
address and name of our kind hosts, the latter
being utterly unpronounceable and impossible
of acquirement under some weeks of study.
My friend, who had a breast-pocket, deposited
the packet safely therein.

So we drove off to Billot's Hotel at Moscow,
jubilant with our pleasant evening. The next
morning we left for St. Petersburg. The journey
is twenty-four hours. You are given large
quadrangular carriages, witli sofas all round,
and tables in the midst. You play at whist
during the day. At night you sleep. At the
stations you eat capercalzie and blackcock.
You drink tea, if you like, or if you prefer anything
stronger, Clicquot, Roœderer provides you
with champagne, and Château Yquem stands
ready in purity. Late in the evening we had
supper. At the next station we had tea. At the
next a glass of kümmel; and then we wound up
our watches, and curled up on our sofas for the
night.

As my doze was sinking into sleep, I was
aroused by the vision of my friend flitting about
anxiously, as though in search of something.

At last he woke me.

"You haven't seen my great-coat?"

"Your great-coat? No."

"Then, by Jove! I've lost it, with my pocketbook
containing £100 circular notes, and our
friends' photographs and cards."