carcely intended to be permanent: they were
erected as part of some great dramatic spectacle, which has been, or is
to be, enacted under the open sky. Contrasted with the sober,
matter-of-fact aspect of dwellings in other countries, they have the
effect of temporary decorations. But when one has entered within these
walls of green and blue and red arabesques, inspected their thickness,
viewed the ponderous porcelain stores, tasted, perhaps, the bountiful
cheer of the owner, he realizes their palpable comforts, and begins to
suspect that all the external adornment is merely an attempt to restore
to Nature that coloring of which she is stripped by the cold sky of the
North.

A little farther on, there is a summer villa of the Empress
Catharine,--a small, modest building, crowning a slope of green turf.
Beyond this, the banks are draped with foliage, and the thinly clad
birches, with their silver stems, shiver above the rush of the waters.
We, also, began to shiver under the steadily falling rain, and retreated
to the cabin on the steward's first hint of dinner. A _table d'hote_ of
four courses was promised us, including the preliminary _zakouski_ and
the supplementary coffee,--all for sixty _copeks_, which is about
forty-five cents. The _zakouski_ is an arrangement peculiar to Northern
countries, and readily adopted by foreigners. In Sweden it is called the
_smoergas_, or "butter-goose" but the American term (if we had the
custom) would be "the whetter." On a side-table there are various plates
of anchovies, cheese, chopped onions, raw salt herring, and bread, all
in diminutive slices, while glasses of corresponding size surround a
bottle of _kuemmel_, or cordial of caraway-seed. This, at least, was the
_zakouski_ on board the Valamo, and to which our valiant captain
addressed himself, after first bowing and crossing himself towards the
Byzantine Christ and Virgin in either corner of the cabin. We, of
course, followed his example, finding our appetites, if not improved,
certainly not at all injured thereby. The dinner which followed far
surpassed our expectations. The national _shchee_, or cabbage-soup, is
better than the sound of its name; the fish, fresh from the cold Neva,
is sure to be well cooked where it forms an important article of diet;
and the partridges were accompanied by those plump little Russian
cucumbers, which are so tender and flavorous that they deserve to be
called fruit rather than vegetables.

When