"WHERE are you going?" asks some familiar, as, on a fiery July day, you hurry, red in the face, along the splendid quays of the Neva. But you have no time to explain. Already the steamer's bell has rung. So, throwing an hour's politeness into your glance, you push past, leaving the word "Peterhoff" floating in the air behind you, as a sufficient explanation of your excitement. A minute or two brings you to the landing, where the intimation," For Peterhoff," is written in Russ, German, and English. You get into the office. Others are there before you, and during the few seconds of detention you have time to look round, and see that the shelves behind the counter are filled with the caps and swords of officers who, in their trips, leave them till they call again. The place looks like a room in an army clothier's. But it is your turn now, and the man looks. If you seem very shabby, he gives you a steerage ticket, and consigns you to the fellowship of the moujiks. But if you seem at all reputable, he hands you a slip of pink paper, with some wonderful characters on it, and you hand him fifty copeeks, and proceed to the boat. You are now on the gangway. But here you are stopped by two old soldiers civil, like all the Russians-who examine your billet, tear off a corner, and then motion you towards the cabin.

There are several Peterhoff steamers, and all pretty much alike. You find yourself in a long, sharp, elegant, fast-sailing iron riverboat. The weather is fine. This is a fêteday. Crowds are going down. You came late.

There is neither room to walk about nor sit down, so you must stand till some one leaves his place. Under these circumstances, you squeeze yourself, rather sheepishly, between rows of seated ladies, and get near the taffrail, where you are out of the way and can see everybody.

The bell now rings for the last time. The gangway is removed, the ropes are thrown off, the steamer backs, then goes ahead, then swings round. While this interesting operation is progressing, several people rush down to the quay, and stop abruptly within an inch of the edge, having discovered two or three minutes before that there was no use in their. coming at all. But there they are, looking very indignant, and ready to go home again every time a boat starts. You are now clear;

and passing Baird's works on the left, and the Mine-corps on the right, the city disappears, and the vessel threads her way in the narrow channel which leads through the now shallow expanse towards the Gulf of Finland.

Look at the passengers now, for there is no scenery worth noticing. All are fully occupied, the ladies with their tongues, and the gentlemen with their tobacco. But some of the fair sex in Russia do more than talk: they smoke too. At first you can hardly believe it, but are soon convinced that there is no mistake; for in one case you see that "the smoke which so gracefully curls" comes from under a handsome bonnet; in another, that small gloved hand holds an ignited papirosse in the most approved method; while a third lady asks a fellow-traveller to give her a light. However, smoking ladies, though frequently met with, are not the rule. On the other hand, all the men smoke, and the mass indulge in this habit to excess. Especially do they indulge in it on board the steamer, since they dare not draw a puff in the streets of any city, town, or village of the empire, because the Tzar abhors the practice, and won't allow it; a useful hint this to legislators among ourselves. Even in free America, users of tobacco are compelled, in such cities as Boston, to consume it in their pipes at home. Why should they annoy other people? And I can bear witness that they do so; for even on the deck of these Russian steamers, on a calm day, the air is so filled with stifling fumes, that to breathe freely one would almost need to be hung over the side.

This beclouded company is a motley one. Here is a knot of glittering uniforms; there a group of gray military cloaks. Here is an elderly gentleman in plain clothes, with an "order" round his neck; there is a frivolous youth, who does not seem to be burdened with any kind of order at all. And as for languages-a running fire of French is pretty general, with here a little Russ, there a rasp of German, and in yon corner a monosyllable or two in English. It seems as if every country in Europe had sent a representative on board the vessel. Either sex, all ages, and professions, and ranks are huddled together in this iron box, thinking little of the day that is gone, less of that which is coming, and chiefly intent on the present moment.

-After the congregation, inner and outer, had been dismissed, the Empress stepped on to the balcony. Beside her were her fine grand children, whom she caressed with all a woman's fondness, for she tenderly loves them. But she looked ill, miserably ill, pale, deathlike; forcing from the spectators many an exclamation of pity, as they looked on that wreck of beauty, and recalled all the circumstances which had so fretted a once fine form. The gratulations of princes awaited, and were with seeming cordiality tendered her, and all that station could give she had in large abundance. Still, there are few English wives and mothers who would exchange lots with the Empress Alexandria.

The dwelling-place of the Tzar is about a mile and a half from the palace, and is only a cottage, though a beautiful one. But the grounds are very extensive, well laid out, and carefully kept. Here the family live in quiet seclusion, and in as domestic a way as can be attained by people like them. From this retreat the public are properly excluded. | Once a year only do they get leave to visit it, and that is on the birthday of its mistress. On such an occasion I was there, and saw thousands wandering without restraint into every nook and corner of the gardens and parks. Here again I saw the Emperor, driving about slowly with his wife and sister, eagerly gazed on and respectfully saluted by all.

The liberties taken by everybody that afternoon were amusing. Not content with inspecting the great man outside his house, they seemed resolved to know what he was about within; and planting themselves on either side the door, they stood staring at him as he talked in the lobby. Still he did not appear to heed them. Such liberties are allowed in Russia. Nicholas would have his people to own him as their father; and just in proportion as he keeps from them the right of thinking for themselves, does he accord to them the privilege of looking at him. This is his succedaneum for rational freedom. A despot must rule, either by affection or force; and he of Russia-not to speak of higher motives-knows that the former is the stronger yoke of the two. It is well, therefore, to let the people stare. While doing this, they forget more important matters. That evening they saw to the top of their bent; for the Empress, the family, and many of the nobles, took tea on an open balcony.

I was walking one afternoon from a friend's house back to the village, and, on rounding a

were

bend in the road, met his Majesty with his consort, taking their evening drive. There were two carriages behind them. The Emperor himself drove, English fashion. There no outriders, and no guards of any kind. It was a good, but unostentatious turn-out. In such circumstances, it is expected that you should stand uncovered till the cortege passes, and I did so, receiving quite as good a bow as I gave; for, whatever his faults may be, Nicholas ever demeans himself courteously. Had I not paid him this mark of respect, however, my reasons for withholding it might have been demanded, as I was assured they had been on an occasion when, either from ignorance or rudeness, the customary salute had been omitted.

Once, while in company with some friends, I met him in his own drosky. He was drawn by a beautiful black horse, wore the common infantry casque and gray cloak, and had nobody with or near him but the favorite driver, who seemed far more pompous than his master. He knew us to be English, and eyed us sharply. Indeed, every Russian knows an Englishman when he sees him, wherever that may be; and I firmly believe that no foreigners are so much esteemed by all classes, from the Tzar to the moujik, as our own countrymen. And, without partiality, their conduct entitles them to all the esteem in which they are held. All this is of course changed since the war. A gentleman who recently returned from Russia describes the feelings against England and Englishmen as being now intensely bitter.

On the morning of the Empress's birthday, already mentioned, there was a grand parade of the Chevalier Guards, her own regiment. She had been unsually feeble, and was not expected out. However, when the men were drawn up in a great hollow square, it was whispered that she would come. A considerable number was assembled, and while I had no objection to the universal politeness, I did miss the heartiness of an English crowd. There were no mischievous boys about, and an utter absence of that class, so abundant with us, whose jokes and self-provoked merriment so beguile the tedium of waiting for a sight. All was flat, and I grew weary and heavy long ere the Emperor arrived. At last he came, and strode into the centre of the square. It was now his turn to wait for the Empress. And there he stood, just like a statue, amidst the silence of soldiers and people, apparently not moving a muscle, for nearly a quarter of an

hour. Only once did he manifest any impatience, and that was when he turned his head sharply round in the direction from which the carriage of his wife was to come. But he instantly resumed his former attitude, and never moved again until she drove up, and he advanced to receive her with military honors. Then the vehicle with its feeble burden was drawn along the sides of the square, and the lady bowed, and the bands played, and the men shouted out their uncouth cry; while in waiting, dutiful and chivalrous, walked the sons and the husband. The sight was soon over, but it was interesting in itself, and doubly so for many reasons which I need not name.

The Emperor cares so little for state, that there is a class who would be disappointed at the figure he cuts either at Peterhoff or in the city. In the latter place he wanders through the crowded streets alone; in the country, if accompanied at all, he goes out generally with some member or members of his own family.

I suppose I may now leave crowned heads; let me say something about other objects as worthy of note. There is the village itself, which, though a showy place, and by no means very Russian, is yet enough so to be different from an equal number of houses in any other country. The streets are clean; the buildings regular and neat, as done to order. Here and there one sees a dwelling which even makes a little pretension, what with wood-work, stucco, and whitewash. Some of those apportioned to the courtiers are really handsome. But the best structure by far in the place is the "new stables." Its design is castellated Gothic, and its size very great. Beside this, the palace is insignificant, and the Alexandria cottage forgotten. It has so many stalls that I do not venture to assign a number.

The carriage-drives, avenues, and shaded walks extend in their many windings for nearly forty miles; and although the country be generally level, and the soil poor, art has done every thing that could be accomplished. Now the road runs beside an artificial stream; then it is hemmed in by hedges. Now it passes through meadows and rye fields; then it winds along, hiding itself in clumps of young trees, and ere long running through the primeval forest. Presently you hear the rush of water, and find a little fall, standing beside which is a lovely Swiss cottage, and close by, an artificial lake, green and grassy to the water's edge. Again the scene changes, and at the end of a long avenue you reach

an Italian villa, whose tall tower and fair statues cast their shadows along the lake below. Anon you are at the Empress's Island," the most fairy-like creation of all. In every direction there are lovely drives, and walks, and cottages. East and west, north and south, for miles, such pleasures lie open to and invite all comers, Russian or Englishman, prince or peasant. Nobody is excluded, and all respect the indulgence afforded them.

I visited several of these villas, and found them as fair within as without. The pavilion is exquisite; that on the "Empress's Island" still more so. Choicest sculptures and richest flowers, in either case, make a paradise of the approach. Inside, perfect order, perfect taste, and softened splendor are at home. Nor are the simpler cottages, though less magnificent, less interesting and elegant. In one of these I found a large and charming collection of English prints, chiefly after Landseer and Herring. The dogs and horses of our great painter seemed special favorites.

The imperial family often visit one or other of these houses on the summer evenings. When they do, the attendants carry to the appointed place the inseparable samovar, and prepare tea; a beverage of which immense quantities are consumed in Russia by all classes, and which, in that land, is of a quality and flavor comparatively unknown with us. Why this should be, I cannot say; that it is, admits of no question.

These quiet parties so far indicate the affection existing among the members of the Romanoff household. Now I do not imagine that anybody, gentle or simple, deserves very much credit for loving his mother or father, his brothers or sisters; all I say is, that the imperial sons and daughters of Russia are not historically famous for the exercise of such feelings, and it is a pleasant thing to see them improving, and love living amidst the jealousies which surround a throne. The poor Empress is very fond of such réunions of children and grandchildren, for she is a kind woman.

In each of these summer-houses there is a room appropriated to the Tzar, and one of these apartments is a type of all his others. It is plain in the extreme. Two or three green leather chairs, a green leather sofa, a green baize table, an unornamented secrétoire, and writing materials, comprise all the furnishing. His room is always the poorest part of his house. His brothers' tastes were the same, extremely simple. While the ladies, and lads, and little folks chat and play

below, Nicholas very often slips upstairs, and writes for a couple of hours; for he is a thorough man of business, and has enough of

it to do.

The lower or "English gardens," near the palace, are specially worthy of a visit. Here, three military bands play every summer night, and there is a grand promenade of all the Peterhoff people, which at this season includes the fashion of St. Petersburg, seasoned with a large sprinkling of visitors, and English or other merchants, with their families, who then rusticate in the neighborhood. Loitering in this sweet spot of an evening, one forms a very tolerable notion as to the component parts of Russian society, as to its morale and tone in every thing. You get a notion, too, of the heterogeneous odds and ends which are worked up into the empire, when you see on all sides Germans, Poles, Tartars, Circassians, Cossacks, Fins, Persians, Sclavonians, all distinct as ever, and kept together only by the sharp circle of bayonets which surrounds them. There they are, different in face, different in feeling, different in bearing, different in creed, and in many cases different in dress, for the southern people cling to their own beautiful attire. I drank tea one night with an Egyptian, a Persian, an Englishman, a French woman, and a Russian; and just such a farrago is collected each evening in these gardens. What with grand uniforms, courtly ladies, odd faces, strange costumes, many tongues, beautiful music, and bright flowers, an hour or two passes there very quickly. Nor is the wind up of the promenade its least interesting part. At the close, the men on guard are drawn out. One of the bands stands beside them. All is still as in a church. Then the glorious evening hymn is played, which, once heard, can never be forgotten; and when the solemn strains have died away, the soldiers and the people uncover, while the officer repeats the Lord's prayer. I dare say these poor fellows know and think very little about it, but to me this closing of a day was ever solemn, most solemn; and, like Sir Thomas Browne, I was less disposed to find fault with other men's devotions than to hope that my own were right. Oh that yours and mine, dear reader, may prove as acceptable to God as that dear melody has to my eager ear!

Occasionally the Emperor himself visits this animated scene. But his sons or grandsons come oftener. One night the guard turned out in a great hurry, and everybody was on the qui vive, but I could see nothing, though I guessed that an imperial, at least, must be

about somewhere. At length I saw by the motion of the people where this last notability was to be found. was to be found. Off I set in search. Still I saw nothing except a crowd. At length, when I had elbowed my way farther in, I found a little boy about four years old, led by a fat officer, and was informed that the poor little fellow was a grand - duke. And so he was, for all the people had their hats off, and were staring at him very much as others do at the latest addition to the Zoological Gardens.

On the river side of the palace is a magnificent display of fountains, of which that named "the Samson" is the finest. It is like having a peep at fairy - land when one leans over the balustrade on a warm day, and looks down on the many jets which throw their tinted showers into the air, making, as the waters fall again, and rush down the marble steps, "sweet music with the enamelled stones," and filling earth and atmosphere with freshness. Every one must admire these lovely fountains, and most of all an Englishman, especially if his idea of such things has been formed from a survey of the two squirts in Trafalgar Square. But half the wonders are not seen from the terrace. You must go down below, and wander in the woods. There, in odd corners, you will find little boys standing under perpetual showerbaths; and the pyramid" of white foam, with its countless pipes; and Adam enveloped in spray, at one end of an avenue, looking wistfully at poor Eve, who is subjected to similar treatment at the other. Then there is the splendid imperial bath, where you are not allowed to bathe, however anxious you may be, and the little mischievous "mushroom" fountain, where, in your innocence, you may get wet through whether you will or not. Indeed, there is so much to see, that the most insatiable must be satisfied, and the most critical delighted. Many a sweet hour have I passed in this enchanted place.

Such is Peterhoff in summer. When autumn, a Russian chilly autumn, comes, the Emperor goes to Tsarsko Celo, his followers go after him, and the English merchants go back to town. Then the artificial lakes are emptied, the fountains left dry, the bands of music sent to discourse elsewhere, the very flowers taken away, and mud, moujiks, and melancholy reign supreme.

"The desolated prospect thrills the soul," and until sunny and peaceful days come back again, we will not go near the summer quarters of the Tzar.