een in
Europe; they do pretty much as they please; follow such trades and
occupations as they like best; become noisy and uproarious when it
suits them; get drunk occasionally; fight now and then; lie about on
the grass and under the trees when they feel tired; enjoy themselves
to their heart's content at all the public places; and care nothing
about the police as long as the police let them alone. I rather
fancied there must be a natural democratic streak in these people, for
they are certainly more free and easy in their manners, rougher in
their dress, more independent in their general air, and a good deal
dirtier than most of the people I had met with in the course of my
travels. I do not mean to say that rowdyism and democracy are
synonymous, but I consider it a good sign of innate manliness and a
natural spirit of independence when men are not afraid to dress like
vagabonds and behave a little extravagantly, if it suits their taste.
It must be said, however, that the police regulations or St.
Petersburg, without being onerous or vexatious, are quite as good as
those of any large city in Europe. When men are deprived of their
political liberties, the least that can be done for them is to let
them enjoy as much municipal freedom as may be consistent with public
peace. I should never have suspected, from any thing I saw in the city
or neighborhood of St. Petersburg, that I was within the limits of an
absolute despotism. If one desires to satisfy himself on this point he
must visit the interior.

[Illustration: YOUNG PEASANTS.]

I was led into this train of reflection partly by the scenes I had
witnessed during my rambles through the city and on the way down the
river, and partly by what we now saw on the island of Krestofskoi. A
bridge unites this island with the Petrofskoi, and two other bridges
with the islands of Kamennoi and Elaghinskoi. It was eleven o'clock at
night, yet the twilight was so rich and glowing that one might readily
read a newspaper in any of the open spaces. The main avenues were
crowded with carriages of every conceivable description--the grandly
decorated coach of the noble, glittering with armorial bearings and
drawn by four richly-caparisoned horses; the barouche, easy and
elegant, filled with a gay company of foreigners; the drosky, whirling
along at a rapid pace, with its solitary occupant; the kareta, plain,
neat, and substantial, carrying on its ample seats some worthy
merchant and h