that tea performs in the great drama of Russian life.

CHAPTER VI.

THE PETERSKOI GARDENS.

This draws me insensibly toward the beautiful gardens of the
Peterskoi--a favorite place of resort for the Moskovites, and famous
for its chateau built by the Empress Elizabeth, in which Napoleon
sought refuge during the burning of Moscow. It is here the rank and
fashion of the city may be seen to the greatest advantage of a fine
summer afternoon. In these gardens all that is brilliant, beautiful,
and poetical in Russian life finds a congenial atmosphere.

I spent an evening at the Peterskoi which I shall long remember as one
of the most interesting I ever spent at any place of popular
amusement. The weather was charming--neither too warm nor too cold,
but of that peculiarly soft and dreamy temperature which predisposes
one for the enjoyment of music, flowers, the prattle of children, the
fascinations of female loveliness, the luxuries of idleness. In such
an atmosphere no man of sentiment can rack his brain with troublesome
problems. These witching hours, when the sun lingers dreamily on the
horizon; when the long twilight weaves a web of purple and gold that
covers the transition from night to morning; when nature, wearied of
the dazzling glare of day, puts on her silver-spangled robes, and
receives her worshipers with celestial smiles, are surely enough to
soften the most stubborn heart. We must make love, sweet ladies, or
die. There is no help for it. Resistance is an abstract impossibility.
The best man in the world could not justly be censured for practicing
a little with his eyes, when away from home, merely as I do, you know,
to keep up the expression.

The gardens of the Peterskoi are still a dream to me. For a distance
of three versts from the gate of St. Petersburg the road was thronged
with carriages and droskies, and crowds of gayly-dressed citizens, all
wending their way toward the scene of entertainment. The pressure for
tickets at the porter's lodge was so great that it required
considerable patience and good-humor to get through at all. Officers
in dashing uniforms rode on spirited chargers up and down the long
rows of vehicles, and with drawn swords made way for the
foot-passengers. Guards in imperial livery, glittering from head to
foot with embroidery, stood at the grand portals of the gate, and with
many profound and elegant bows ushered in the company. Policeman with
cocked hats and shining ep