A numerous corps of gendarmes are busdy employed in keeping order among the equipages, which increase in number so greatly at last, that while one end of the line is turning on Peter's place, round the rock of Peter the Great, the other is turning round the base of Alexander's column, a good Enghsh mile apart. Sometimes a carriage will attempt to get out of the line, to the grievous discomposure of the breathless gendarmes, who, however, behave very well in general, and without respect to persons. I saw once a warm debate arise between one and a first minister of state, who wanted to break the line. The coach-andfour got the better at last of the soldier, who was alone, and forced its way through. The poor defeated gendarme shook his head angrily when he saw there was no help, and called after the minister, " You ought to be ashamed of yourself, my lord ! this is the second time to day that you have disturbed the order. Shame upon you, my lord."
On the whole, the lower class content themselves with the very harmless amusements at the Katsheli, except that here and there a few indulge perhaps too freely in their potations. "Forgive me, it 25 butterweek,' is then pretty generally admitted as an excuse. " Ah sir, don't look so long at the picture, it is the last day of butter-week," pleaded an old soldier, who opened the door for me at Bnilow's picture. He seemed pretty well charged at the time, I thought, but he assured mc that he must have a glass or two more to enable liim to cucomiter a seven wcek^'
fast. One must do the St. Petersburg police the justice to say that the streets are rarely disturbed by any scenes of brutal intemperance. The very quiet nature of Russian intoxication may perhaps partly account for this. A Russian coachman is often as full as a bottle in a bin, and yet shows no sign of any deficiency, till he fairly tmnbles off his box.
Amusing as it is to occupy a convenient place at this spectacle of the Katsheli, where the Admiralty -place is the stage, buildings like the Winter Palace, the Senate House, and the War-office, serve as side scenes, and where the whole population of St. Petersburg appear as actors, still it is difficult to forget that the festive scene has witnessed two most tragical occurrences ; the one was tlie giving way of the ice on the Neva when so many found a watery grave in the midst of theii thoughtless meri-iment ; the other, and more recent, was the burning of the wooden theatre. I must confess, few narratives have excited in me more horror than those connected with the fire just alluded to. Thousands may die on the battle field ; we honour them, but their death fills us not with dread, they win a glorious name, and they die with honour. Thousands meet their end upon the sick bed ; we weep for them, but it is the course of nature that they should die. But that thousands by mere accident, in the midst of sports, in the most thoughtless revelry, should bid adieu to this fair world, to all their plans and hopes, stifled in a miserable wooden booth like so many rats and mice — this is fearful, and reminds us too awfully of the feeble tenure by which we hold existence.