usewife
returning from market hangs half a dozen of them on her arm. The bread
of peasants is very different; it is made of rye, very brown--almost
black, very close, heavy, and sour. They are, however, very fond of it,
and so are even the upper classes, who seldom make a meal without taking
some.

The streets, as one drives about, seem interminable,--long wide avenues
of trees with gardens and places extending away at right angles in all
directions. What dreary, hopeless work for a poor fellow on foot on a
hot day, who has lost his way, to find it again!

They are here called lines, like the avenues of New York, Cousin Giles
says. One is directed to the fifteenth or sixteenth line. Most of the
private residences here are in flats--few people have a house to
themselves. The entrance is either at the side of an archway, or from a
quadrangle round which the houses are built.

At the north end of the iron bridge stands a shrine, with the picture of
the Virgin Mary on it, before which tapers are constantly burning.
Every one who passes, belonging to the Greek Church, takes off his hat
and rapidly and energetically crosses himself; drosky drivers, soldiers,
peasants, rein up their horses, even going at full speed, and perform
their acts of devotion. People on foot stop and bow and cross
themselves,--some scarcely breaking off a conversation, while others
kneel before the altar and continue some minutes, if not in prayer, at
all events in the attitude of devotion. This end of the bridge turns on
pivots, to allow vessels to pass up and down.

In the streets are seen a number of pigeons, whom no one disturbs. The
Russians have a superstitious veneration for them, believing, I fancy,
that they are inhabited by the souls of their departed relatives. We,
however, had a pigeon pie at the hotel. Fruit is very dear here. We
were asked a silver rouble for a basket of strawberries, almost spoilt,
and two roubles for a melon.

We saw some excellent figures of native costumes. Three roubles were
asked for each. One of the late Emperor cost four roubles, the
additional rouble being put on in compliment to his Majesty. It would
be disrespectful to sell even a dead emperor at as low a price as a
living subject.

In every quarter of the city, over the police stations, at which the
thin halberd-armed guards are posted, are watch-towers. A man is
stationed at the top, which is fitted with a telegraph, to give notice
eit