etricious and absurd in other people; and you need not
be surprised should you fail to recognize even your unpretending friend
and correspondent on his return to California; for although I still
pretend to write a little English, I no longer speak it except in
broken accents. Having also worn out three good hats practicing the art
of bowing on the boulevards of Paris and the glacis of Frankfort, I
never pretend now to recognize any body without striking the top of my
tile against the cap of my knee.

[Illustration: A PASSAGE OF POLITENESS.]

This, you see, is all in the way of excuse for the Russians, and
arises rather from an excess of good nature than an excess of egotism.
Constant practice in the solemnities of street-worship--uncovering
their heads and bowing low before their numerous saints and
shrines--may have some influence upon the stateliness of Russian
politeness. It is, however, a very prominent and characteristic trait,
and in some of its phases rather astounding to a stranger. A common
thing in the streets of Moscow is to see a couple of sturdy beggars,
uncouth as grizzly bears, meet and stop before each other with the
utmost and most punctilious gravity. Beggar number one takes his
greasy cap from his head slowly and deliberately, gives it a graceful
sweep through the air, and, with a most courtly obeisance, exhibits
the matted tuft, or the bald spot on the top of his head, to his
ragged friend. Beggar number two responds in a similar courteous
style, neither uttering a word. Each then gravely replaces his cap,
touches the brim of it once or twice by way of representing a few
extra bows, and passes on his way with an expression of profound
dignity, utterly unconscious of the grotesque effect of all this
ceremony to a stranger. I have seen the most vagabond-looking
istrovoschik, or drosky-drivers, jump out of their drosky and perform
similar courtesies toward each other; and where men of this craft are
given to politeness, one may rest assured that it must be a national
characteristic. All seem to be the slaves of ceremony, from the Czar
down to the Mujik. Porters, wagoners, water-carriers, butchers,
bakers, and chimney-sweeps are equally skilled in the noble art of
bowing. At first, judging by the uncouth faces and the grimy costumes
of these interesting people, such passages of politeness have very
much the effect of burlesque. It seems impossible that men of such
rude aspect can be in earnest. One s