and one that I studied orally, and not
grammatically; but I have written them to be
pronounced as in French; and, if any of my
readers, intending to visit Russia, will take
the trouble to commit this slender vocabulary
to memory, they will find them to all
droschky-driving intents and purposes sufficient
for their excursions in any Russian town
from Petersburg to Kasan.

There are some facetious Russians who
supersede the verbal employment of the first
four of these phrases by synonymous manual
signs. Thus, being always seated outside, and
immediately behind the driver they substitute
for "to the right" a sharp pull of the Ischvostchik's
right ear. Instead of crying "to the
left" they pull him by the sinister organ of
hearing; a sound "bonneting" blow on the
low crowned hat, or indeed, a blow or a kick
anywhere is considered as equivalent to a
gentle reminder to drive faster; and, if you
wish to pull up, what is easier than to grasp
the Ischvostchik by the throat and twine
your hand into his neckerchief, pulling him
violently backwards, meanwhile, till he
chokes or holds hard? It is not often, I
confess, that this humorous system of speech
without words, is required, or, at least,
practised in Petersburg or Moscow; but in the
country, where Nous Autres are at home,
these, and numerous other waggish modes of
persuasive coercion, are in use for the benefit
of the Ischvostchik. I remember a young
Russian gentleman describing to me his
overland kibitka journey from Moscow to
Warsaw. He travelled with his mother and sister:
it was in the depth of winter; and he
described to me in freezing accents the
horrors of his situation compelled as he was
to sit outside the kibitka by the side of the
Ischvostchik (or rather yemschik; for, when
the droschky driver drives post-horses he
becomes a postilion, whether he bestrides his
cattle or the splash-board.) "Outside," I said,
"was there no room inside the carriage?"
"O, yes! plenty of room," was the naïve
reply of this young gentleman; "but you see
I had to sit on the box, because we had no
servant with us, and there was nobody to
beat the postilion. For the Russian driver on
a Russian road, receives always as much,
and frequently much more, stick than his
cattle. (Ischvostchiks and Yemschiks are
proverbially merciful to their beasts)." You
have to beat him whether you fee him
or not. Without the stick he will go to
sleep, and will not incite his horses into
any more rapid pace than that which is
understood by a snail's gallop. It is a sad
thing to be obliged to record; but it is a
fact that even as money makes the mare to
go, so it is the stick that makes the Russian
driver to drive; and, just as in the old days
of Irish posting it used to be necessary for
the near leader to be touched up on the flank
with a red-hot poker before he would start, so
the signal for departure to a kibitka driver
is ordinarily a sounding thwack across the
shoulders.

In the two great capitals, happily, words
will serve as well as blows; and to the
Petersburg or Moscow Ischvostchik the
intimation of "Dam na vodka," or even "vodka,"
simply, will seldom fail in procuring an
augmentation of speed. But I grieve to say
that the epithets, "fool!" "you're drunk!"
and especially the terrible adjuration
"sabakoutchelovek!" "son of a dog!" are
absolutely necessary in your converse with the
Ischvostchik, particularly when the subject of
fare comes to be discussed. Every Ischvostchik
will cheat his own countrymen, and I
need not say will stick it on to foreigners in
the proportion of about two hundred and
eighty-five per cent. He will not have the
slightest hesitation in asking a rouble for a
fifteen kopecks course; and it is all over with
you if you hesitate for a moment, or endeavour
to reason out the matter (by nods, smiles, and
shrugs) amicably. Pay him the proper fare,
accompanying the payment by the emphatic
"durak!" If this does not satisfy the
Ischvostchik, utter the magical sabakoutchelovek
in the most awful voice you can command,
and walk away. If he presume to follow you,
still demanding more money, I scarcely know
what to advise you to do; but I know, and the
Ischvostchik knows also, to his sorrow, what
Nous Autres do under such circumstances.
One thing, in charity and mercy, I entreat you
not to do. Don't call in a police-soldier to settle
the dispute. As sure as ever you have that
functionary for an arbitrator, so sure are you
to be mulcted of some more money, and so
sure is the miserable Ischvostchik, whether
right or wrong, whether he has received
under or over fare, so sure is that slave of a
slave either to have his nose flattened or a
tooth or two knocked down his throat on the
spot by the fist of the boutosnik, or police-
soldier, or to be made to look in at the next
convenient opportunity at the nearest police-
station, or siège, and there to be scourged
like a slave as he is, and like a dog as he
ought not to be.

The way these wretched men are beaten,
both openly and privately, is revolting and
abominable. I have seen a gigantic police-
soldier walk coolly down the Nevskoï, from
the Pont de Police to the Kasan church,
beating, cuffing across the face, pulling by
the hair, and kicking, every single one of
the file of Ischvostchiks who, with their
vehicles, line the kerb. To the right and
left, sometimes on to the pavement,
sometimes into the kennel and under their
horses' feet, went the poor bearded brutes
under the brawny fists of this ruffianly
Goliath in a grey gaberdine. I saw him
remount the Nevskoï to his standing-place,
exactly repeating his pugilistic recreation—
saw it from a balcony overhanging this same
Nevskoï, where I was standing with ladies,
and with officials in clanking spurs. We had a