essential to their advancement, and consequently to the general interests of the empire, is likely to preserve a favourable disposition in that country toward the British nation.

The house, or rather cottage, in which Peter the Great resided during the foundation of Petersburg, a city which is the growth of little more than a century, stands on the left of the Emperor's bridge in the road to the fortress. This little building, so sacred to the Russians, was covered over with a brick building of arcades by the late Empress, to protect and support it against the ravages of time. The rooms are three, all upon the ground floor, and very low it was in this very cottage that a whimsical scene occurred whilst the fortress was building.

Those detestable agents of government, spies, have no existence in Petersburg; without their banefnl assistance, the police is so admirably and powerfully extended, that, like a spider's web, whatever comes in contact with it, is felt from the centre to the extremities. The commanding officers of the police do not rank with the officers of the army, nor are they received with much respect in society.

I have hitherto omitted to mention the terrible annoyance of the bells of the Greek churches, the most deep-toned of any I ever heard those of one very near my chamber used every morning to curtail that little portion of sleep which legions of flies had allowed me. To a stranger, the alternate clashing and jingling of these deep-mouthed tenants of the steeple, for an hour without any interval, is very harassing; the bells, like saleable horses going to a fair, are tied in succession, and by pulling the rope which connects them, the agreeable harmony of clashing is effected, whilst the melody of chiming is produced by striking the particular bell with a wedge of iron. The Russian saints are said to be very fond of this matin music; and many was the time and oft that I wished it confined exclusively to their ears. 1

Amongst the other early sounds of the busy moming, with which you are saluted, some are very foreign, and others very familiar, to an Englishman, and fight, if the flies would permit, half induce him to think that he were in the capital of his own country: amongst the latter I was particularly delighted with the cry of the fruiterer, who, with a reverend beard, carried upon his head an oblong board, on which, in little baskets of birch bark, very neat and clean, the choicest summer fruits of Russia were disposed.

We were introduced to the English club by a member, where the company is very select, consisting of Russian and Polish noblemen, foreigners of respectability, and that truly dignified character; an English merchant. The dinner is always excellent, and served up in the English fashion: adjoining are rooms for billiards and reading, where the principal foreign papers are taken in.

Although I have expressed my attachment to the Russian, and like the good-humoured fellow prodigiously, yet I must admit that he has no objection to improve his notions of earthly felicity by a little occasional inebriation. At a house where I passed the evening, previous to supper we had been drinking some ale, which in this country is prized on account of its being both excellent and forbidden, having left a couple of bottles about half full upon the table when supper was announced, a most demure looking menial, with a long beard, who stood behind my chair, was ordered to bring them in: after some little hesitation, he informed his master "that he was very sorry for it, but that, as he passed through the room, by mere accident he had emptied the bottles." Nature, by some of her odd freaks, very soon confirmed the truth of one part of this statement. This propensity is much encouraged by the extraordinary number of festivals which occur in this country, particularly at the end of Lent; almost as many as those of the civic corporation of London, which it is said

would present, if they were duly observed, a feast for every day in the year, and some over.

The princely magnificence in which some of the Russian nobility live is prodigious. Many of the no bles have three hundred servants; and one of that order, it is reported, had thirteen thousand in constant attendance.

The manners of the Russian nobility very much partake of the mannres of the old school of France, and, in complimentary profession, perhaps a little exceed it. They are acute observers of human nature; and knowing that their urbanity, on account of their polar situation, is generally suspected, they are even anxious to make a profuse display of it. They are remarkably hospitable, and very attentive to strangers. Connubial happiness amongst the higher orders seldom endures eleven months after the honey-moon, when the parties generally kiss, pout, part, and afterwards are happy. Divorce is not recognized by the laws of Russia. The road to Moscow frequently exhibits a singular spectacle of lords and their ladies, taking a half yearly glance at each other as they meet, in exchanging their residences in the two cities, for their mutal accommodation and amusement: this is the nearest point of contact. The education of the young nobility very frequently suffers from the free and unguarded manner with which they receive every needy adventurer in the capacity of domestic tutor, particularly if he be an Englishman: English taylors, and servants out of livery, and travelling valets, frequently become the preceptors and governors of children. A fellow of this description said one day : "In summer I be clerk to a butcher at Cronstadt, and in winter 1 teaches English to the Russian nobility's children." I knew a lady whose valet left her at Petersburg, in consequence of having been appointed to the superintendence of the children of a Russian nobleman of high distinction, with a thousand rubles per annum, a table, and two slaves. The Russian

nobility are in general very extravagant, and conse quently frequently embarrassed; their bills are often at a discount of sixty, and even seventy pounds per

cent.

Soon after our arrival, we visited the grand im perial theatre, or opera house, called the StoneTheatre, which stands in a large open place, nearly in the front of the marine garrison, formerly the new gaol, and the Nicolai canal. At four angles, in this spacious area, are four pavilions of iron, supportedby pillars of the same metal, resting upon a circu lar basement of granite, within which, in winter, large fir fires are constructed, the wind being kept off by vast circular moveable shutters of iron, for warming and screening the servants of those who visit the theatre in the winter. Previous to the erection of these sheds, many of those unfortunate persons were frozen to death. The government, attentive to the lives of the people, has interdicted performances at the opera, when the frost is unusually severe. The front is a noble portico, supported by Doric pillars, the interior is about the size of Covent-Garden, of an oval shape, and splendidly but rather heavily decorated. The lower tier of boxes project from the sides, at the back of which are pilasters, adorned with appropriate decorations, richly gilded; above which are three rows of boxes, supported by Corinthian pillars, each of which, as well as those below, contain nine persons Nothing less than the whole box can be taken. It frequently happens that servants stand behind their masters or mistresses in the boxes, during the performance, and present a curious motley appearance. The imperial box is in the centre of the first tier, projecting a little, is small, and very plainly decorated. The pit has seven or eight rows of seats with backs to them, in which a commodious portion of space for each spectator is marked off by little plates of brass, numbered upon the top of the back seat; this part is called the fauteuils. Such is the order

observed here, and in every theatre on the continent, that however popular the piece, a spectator may, during any part of the performance reach his seat, in this part of the theatre, without any difficulty. Behind, but not boarded off, is the pit and the parterre. The price of admission to the boxes and fauteuils are two silver rubles, little more than five shil lings. There are no galleries. The massy girandoles, one of which is placed at every pilaster, are never illuminated but when the imperial family are present, on which occasion only, a magnificent circle of large patent lamps is used, descending from the centre of the roof; at other times its place is supplied by one of smaller dimensions, when the obscurity which prevails induces the ladies generally to appear in an undress. Although this gloom before the curtain is said to be advantageous to the effect of scenery, yet the eye is saddened, as it runs its circuit in vain for forms adorned with graceful drapery, the glittering gem, the nodding plume, and looks of adorned beauty that give fresh brilliants to the gay galaxy of light. This theatre is furnished with a great number of doors and passages, reservoirs of water, and an engine in case of fire, and with concealed flues and stoves, to give it summer warmth in winter. It is always strongly guarded by a detachment from the guards, as well as by the police officers, who preserve the most admirable order among the carriages and servants. It is not an ungratifying sight, after the opera, to pause at the doors and see with what uncommon skill and velocity the carriages, each drawn by four horses, drive up to the grand entrance under the portico, receive their company, and gallop off at full speed; pockets are very rarely picked, and accidents seldom happen.

Owing to the size and quantity of decorations, and the spacious arrangements of the boxes, I should not think the theatre could contain more than twelve hundred persons. Its receipts have never yet exseeded one thousand six hundred and eighty rubles,