The military colonies of South Russia, which furnish the cavalry with both men and horses, contain about 60,000 men. Their villages are very regularly built, all on the same plan, the streets planted with rows of trees, the houses of officers as well as soldiers, simple, but extremely clean, containing nothing more than what is strictly necessary. The dwellings of the generals and superior officers are sometimes oddly contrasted with the pomp of their high-sounding titles, and there is no doubt that in the midst of the inconveniences and privations to which they are subjected, the younger of them often look back with fond regret to the ball-rooms of Moscow and St. Petersburg, but it is interesting and curious to see hussars and cuirassiers in full uniform, with their sabres at their sides, labouring behind the plough or driving their wild herds over the grassy steppes ; — the sons of wild Mars engaged in the service of the gentle Ceres.
We reached that evening the town of Yelisabethgrod, the largest and most important of the whole district, and containing above 12,000 inha-
Tliis place continues in most of our maps to be designated by the name of PetrikoA'f., but in point of fact, since the last Polish war it has received the name of Novaya Praga (New Praga), in consequcn'^e of the bravery displayed at the taking of Praga by the regiment of cuirassiers belonging to this colony.
bitaiits. It is difficult to conjecture the cause of this superiority, for it lies like the rest in the midst of the grass, and possesses no one feature — neither river nor lake, nor mountain which can be supposed to have served to attract the nucleus of a settlement. It appears to be a mere creation of chance and arbitrary power. The Ingul, which flows slowly past it, is the most melancholy and lifeless of all the rivers of the steppe ; its silent surface is enlivened by no kind of craft, nay not so much as by floating rafts of timber. The town is not a government town ; the magistrates, indeed, of the circle and of the military colonies reside there, but it can hardly be that these are sufficient to afford subsistence to a large town.
In the neighbourhood of Yelisabethgrod are several German colonies which thrive and fatten visibly in the steppe, and yield every year a number of superfluous young people, who find employment in the neighbouring towns as mechanics, innkeepers, &c. Such a German innkeeper it was who that night entertained us with an excellent supper and good beds.
On the following morning, when only a few lights were visible here and there in the houses, our vehicle was again rolling over the steppe. After leaving Yelisabethgrod behind us, we saw for the first time the brittle limestone which lies everywhere beneath the mould and clay of the steppe, and forms the principal building material from this part of the country to the shores of the Euxine, wood being excessively scarce. This stone is so eoftand crumbly, that it can be worked like wood with the saw and hatchet, being indeed nothing more than a conglomerate of shells kept together by a very feeble cement. It is usually cut into blocks of two and a half feet long, by one foot broad and deep, and with these blocks are built the towns of 'Odessa, Nikolayeff, the villages of the German colonists, and all those in short which do not consist, like the abodes of the Little Russians, Moldavians, and Bulgarians, merely of mud hovels, or holes dug in the ground. Enclosures and gateways, as well as the bridges, alas ! are all made with this stone, and in some respects it is certainly a convenient material, since it is easy to build with it a magnificent house with columns and architraves, and all kinds of decorations, which look very well as long as they are new. Its beauty, however, is of very short duration, for the stone in reality is a most wretched material for building, being so soft that one can make a mark on it with a nail, or bore a hole in it with a stick, and so porous that it sucks in moisture like a sponge, and lets in the wind through walls three or four feet thick. Of course all edifices constructed with it go rapidly to decay, and the steppe villages and towns are covered with new ruins. Most of the houses are falling to pieces, the enclosures tumbling about, and the bridges in such a state that one prefers driving through the water to crossing them. 'I'he towns of Sebastopol, Nikolayeff, and the suburbs of Odessa, are full of such ruins, and the monuments in the churchyards erected as everlasting memorials only ten years ago, look as if they had been there for centuries.