As often in the year as possible they set off with sons, daughters, servants, attendants, with their whole household in short, to spend their Cluistmas or Easter with their rich neighbours. On these occasions, as many poor, lame, meagre horses as possible are harnessed to the crazy old coaches, for it would not be becoming to visit their grand connexions with less than six horses to each coach at least. Besides, by that means the steeds wiU be fed for nothing during the visit; poor things ! they are very thin — they may as well fatten up a little at their wealthy friend's. These feasts, indeed, occur but three times a year in the calendar. The stupid Italian priests had no notion of northern hospitality ! " Mamma, we must go a few days before. Tbey will be so angry if we be too late." ' Adieu, my dear factotum, take good care of every thing. We shall be back in eight days." After five or six weeks they return, tired and satisfied, with fattened horses, and enchanted with the amiability of the wealthy neighbours. ^' Ach Gott! Our dear friends wouldn't let us go at all ! They are such charming people, and so fond of us !"
There is, indeed, a small class, consisting chiefly of petty landowners, younger sons, old bachelors, and the hke, who hve entirely on hospitahty.
They hire a room somewhere, and their only capital consists of a small carriage, and three bad horses. With these they earn their bread. Wherever they hear of an approaching festival, or hunt, they immediately attend it, invited or uninvited. They are at home all over the country, and call all the world their uncles and aunts ; every body is either their dear old friend, or their distant relation. Their little vehicle, with their "man of all work" on the box, who, like Harpagon's Maitre Jacques, is at the same time valet, coachman, cook, housekeeper, and footman — drives about the whole country, and is everywhere the ready filler-up of the company. These guests of all work live generally with a dozen different families, in which they have grown so familiar as to be considered a part of the household. They drive to the house, they and their horses are taken in, fed, warmed, tended, and served ; they stay a few weeks, and then go somewhere else. Everywhere they are welcomed, and may do as they please.
Even in Courland and Livonia, however, complaints are beginning to be made that hospitality is not now what it once was, in a golden age, in the tempi 2)assate, of which they have begun to talk. People, we hear, are grown more selfish and cold, luxury has increased, and those who were formerly contented with a glass of beer or punch, and a primitive table, are not now so easily satisfied. Hospitality, therefore, it is said, cannot now be practised on so large a scale as formerly. These, however, are only the discontented grumblings of the old, and have no influence on a stranger who has no personal knowledge of what these provinces may have been in that same much talked of golden age. Their hospitality, as I have said, is grounded on the national elements of the north, and is deeply engrafted in the character of the people. It is still active and beautiful, with a root strong enough to secure its firmness and duration.
The season at which the society of Courland displays itself to most advantage is in the month of July, when all the world flies to the seashore, and builds bathing-huts on the strand. All the seaport towns are then Hlled with guests from the interior, who come to draw fresh strength and a igour from the cold sea water. The most lively bathing places are Libau and Reval. The water of Riga is not salt enough. Libau, which lies nearest to Lithuania, attracts many Polish guests, and Reval is nmch visited by the citizens of St. Petersburg, and sometimes even by the court. All the other little towns on the coast, Ilabsal, Pemau, Wlndau, Ai'ensburg, attract numbers of visiters. All the private mansions near the sea are full. The interior is left quite empty, while on the coast every little wooden hut or cabin of the Lettish and Esthonian peasants, is occupied by distinguished and wealthy families.
As soon as the gieat Easter feast is over, the question of whether, when, and how " we shall go to the sea-coast" is discussed. The fn-st question, " whether," is generally answered in the affirmative. The seotnid is answered by the prevalent opinion that before the 1st of July tiie sea is not warm enough for use, and the third answer depends upon whether the hcahng powers of the sea, or the hfc and frolic of the bathing-places,
be the objects in view. If the former, a hut is either built or hired on the coast ; if the latter, some town is decided upon.