This Sukhareva Bashnia — that is, the tower of Sukhareff — was originally a building erected by Peter the Great for the administration of the Strelitzi, and was named after a certain Sukhareff, who, though himself a StreUtz, did the emperor good service during the revolt of those Russian pretorian bands. It is a lofty square tower in the Garden -street, standing in the centre of a long building, and serves, as before said, as a reservoir for the city. The water from which the tower is supplied rises seventeen versts from Moscow, is brought by an aqueduct to within three versts, and there raised by a steam-engine erected by the Emperor Nicholas, and impelled into the basin of the tower, whence it is carried to the different basins in the city. The water pours into the basin of the tower from a silver vessel, placed on one side, which sends out constantly fifty streams, each an inch in diameter. The Russian eagle, likewise of silver, expands his wings over these fifty fountains ; and on the wall above all, the picture of a saint is suspended, imder whose auspices all this labour is carried on. Such a guardian is placed over every spring used by man in Russia.
The architecture of Moscow, since the conflagration of 1812, is not quite so bizarre as, according to the accoimts of travellers, it was before that event ; nevertheless it is singular enough. In 1813 the point cliiefly in view was to build, and build quickly, rather than to carry any certain plan into execution; the houses were replaced with nearly the same irregularity with respect to each other, and the streets became as crooked and tortuous as before. The whole gained little in regularity from the burning, but each individual house was built in much better taste, gardens became more frequent, the majority of the roofs were made of iron painted green, a la\ash was made of pillars, and even those who could not be profuse erected more elegant cottages. Hence Moscow has all the charms of a new city, with the pleasing negligence and picturesque Irregularity of an old one. In the streets of modern Moscow, we come, now to a large magnificent palace, with all the pomp of Corinthian pillars, wrought-iron trellis-work, and magnificent approaches and gateways ; and now to a simple whitewashed house, the abode of a modest citizen's family. Near them stands a small church, with green cupolas and golden stars. Then comes a row of little yellow wooden houses, that remind us of the old Moscow ; and these are succeeded by one of the new colossal erections for some public institution. Sometimes the road winds through a number of little streets ; we fancy ourselves in a country-town ; suddenly it rises, and we are in a wide " place," from which streets branch off to all quarters of the world, while the eye wanders over the forest of houses of the great capital ; we descend again, and come in the middle of the town to the banks of a river planted thickly with gardens and woods.
Among the gigantic erections just mentioned is the Cholera Hospital, destined for the maintenance and education of orphan children. It owes its origin and its name to the cholera that raged in Moscow in 1830. Its ravages left many children without parents. A wealthy prince, Gagarin, took charge of thirty of these poor oiphans ; gave up to them a wing of his house, engaged male and female teachers for them, and thus formed a private benevolent institution. When it became more extensive, the crown came to his assistance, and, after the death of the beneficent prince, took the whole establisliment upon itself. An enonnous house — one of those houses like the quarter of a city, built in Catherine's time — was purchased from Count Apraxiii, and in it are now maintained 200 orphan boys and as many girls. The boys are kept there till they are prepared for the university, and the girls till they are fit for governesses.