by writing absurd names, the guards were instructed to make an
example of the next jester whose name should strike them as suspicious.
Fate willed that the imperial comptroller, Baltazar Baltazarovitch
Kampenhausen, with his Russianized German name, should fall a victim to
this order, and he was detained until his fantastic cognomen, so harsh
to Slavic ears, could be investigated.

By day or by night, in winter or summer, it is a pure delight to stand
on the Anitchkoff Bridge and survey the scene on either hand. If we gaze
to the north toward what is one of the oldest parts settled on the
rivulet-riddled so-called "mainland," in this Northern Venice, we see
the long, plain facade of the Katherine Institute for the education of
the daughters of officers, originally built by Peter the Great for his
daughter Anna, as the "Italian Palace," but used only for the palace
servants, until it was built over and converted to its present purpose.
Beyond, we catch a glimpse of the yellow wings of Count Scheremetieff's
ancient house and its great iron railing, behind which, in a spacious
courtyard, after the Moscow fashion so rare in thrifty Petersburg, the
main building lies invisible to us. If we look to the south, we find the
long ochre mass of the Anitchkoff Palace, facing on the Nevsky, upon the
right shore; on the left, beyond the palace of Sergiei Alexandrovitch,
the branch of the Alexander Nevsky Monastery, in old Russian style, with
highly colored saints and heads of seraphim on the outer walls; and a
perspective of light, stuccoed building,--dwellings, markets,
churches,--until the eye halts with pleasure on the distant blue dome
of the Troitzky cathedral, studded with golden stars. Indeed, it is
difficult to discover a vista in St. Petersburg which does not charm us
with a glimpse of one or more of these cross-crowned domes, floating,
bubble-like, in the pale azure of the sky. Though they are far from
being as beautiful in form or coloring as those of Moscow, they satisfy
us at the moment.

If it is on a winter night that we take up our stand here, we may catch
a distant glimpse of the numerous "skating-gardens," laid out upon the
ice cleared on the snowy surface of the canal. The ice-hills will be
black with forms flitting swiftly down the shining roads on sledges or
skates, illuminated by the electric light; a band will be braying
blithely, regardless of the piercing cold, and the skaters will dance
on, in their fancy-d