naval officer had recently declared that he considered the fortifications of Alexandria quite as strong, and everybody knows what happened to them. Should the day ever come when this line of citadels is called upon to show its powers of defence and display its broad belt of fire, it certainly does appear that Cronstadt will more than hold its own and remain impregnable.

The water around us is alive with fragile-looking boats, rowed by boatmen conspicuous in red shirts over their trousers and long boots. Clumsy barges are being forced along through sheer muscular energy by soldiers in rough white canvas-like suits. An imperial yacht in white and gold, and flying gay flags and streamers, glides majestically away into the open sea. Well-handled torpedo boats dart to and fro as if striking at some imaginary foe. Gunboats flying the imperial

flag proceed down the gulf, their officers in conspicuously decorated uniforms of green and dark blue, and the sailors with smart white summer coverings over their broad blue caps. A fine cruiser just returned from some distant station in the Pacific lies at anchor, her well-seasoned crew receiving sympathetic attention from comrades welcoming them to the old port again. If all the Russian war-ships are similarly manned and present as creditable an appearance, then the naval power of this country is certainly not to be despised. The Custom-House officers, the Board of Health inspector, and a representative of the police are now on board. The latter, we have been informed by an interpreter, is one of the imperial gendarmes sent down on special duty to the port to keep the officials up to the mark. He has quite a military appearance in his hussar-like uniform of light blue, with white tassel decorations, long cavalry boots and sword. The crew is drawn up on deck and every man is closely scanned. Our passports are minutely examined, and careful entries made from them into the official books. The Custom-House officers look active enough in their own department. Fortunately no Nihilist has been found, no informality detected in our papers, no contraband goods discovered. Having done their duty the officers willingly accept our hospitality, and soon the cigarettes are lit, refreshments produced, and we at once become the best of friends. After hearty handshakings and profuse politeness they finally descend into their boats, and we are left with the best of wishes to proceed into the land of the Czar.

Since the opening of the new canal to St. Petersburg--which has enabled merchantmen to proceed direct to the capital-there has been a considerable decline in the trade of Cronstadt. It seems to be the intention of the Government to divert trade as much as possible from

VOL. CCLXXIV. NO. 1950.

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this port and reserve it entirely for strictly imperial purposes.

However the good old port of Cronstadt, a favourite rendezvous of British sailors, is not defunct yet. It may be mentioned, however, that the imperial naval docks are quite separate from the other shipping docks. Within the former we observed several ironclads, gunboats, torpedo-boats, and quantities of naval stores; still the display is very far behind that of Portsmouth or any of the royal dockyards at home. The inferiority is most marked, and we are not disappointed to find it so. The shipping port presents a somewhat lively scene. Steamers and sailing ships of many nationalities lie within. There is a big trade carried on here in hemp, flax, tallow, and grain-the biggest in Russia; still the chief export is wood. All around us there seems to be nothing but wood on rafts, barges, steamers, and sailing ships, and in thousands of tons it lies piled on shore. We are not surprised to learn that stringent precautions are taken to prevent fires. Steamers are bound to have the fire hose in constant readiness. No cooking whatever is allowed on wooden ships; all such work must be done on shore. All lights must be extinguished by nine o'clock-when the citadel gun fires-under a heavy penalty. It is interesting to watch the operations within the dock. Gangs of wretchedly-clad wild-looking moujiks from the interior are handling, sawing, and loading wood all round. Soldiers, sailors, and marines from the forts are also engaged in stowing it away in ships. In early morning one of the sights in the port is the hiring of the moujiks for the day's operations. In a body they muster at their favourite rendezvous, forming a brigade of the most haggard, starved, and miserably-clad labourers to be seen anywhere. The barges with the stevedores are drawn up below. The bargaining begins amid shouts, gesticulations, jostling, and struggling, and as soon as a fairly remunerative wage is reached an immediate rush is made for the boats. Should any have attempted to steal a march upon their comrades by hiring themselves out on lower terms, they are at once pounced upon and have summarily administered a series of kicks and blows which will incapacitate them for work for a few hours at least. This hiring place is known amongst British seamen as the Cronstadt "nigger market "--by no means an inappropriate appellation. So at night, when these hard-driven moujiks are rowed ashore. They form up alongside the pay office, and with the utmost celerity they are cleared off. Grimy with coal dust, steaming with sweat, the rag wrappings round their feet and legs-in most cases their only protection-all in tatters, they gather round the hawkers close by purchasing black bread, herring, fish, cucumbers, onions, mushrooms,

or make for their still more favourite haunts, the vodka and beershops which everywhere abound.

Cronstadt has a population of about fifty thousand, including the garrison, which is at present thirty thousand strong. Its streets are broad, regular, and clean, but paved with the roughest and most cruel of boulder causeway. The houses generally, notwithstanding the abundance of paint and whitewash, look somewhat old. Shops are numerous and of the usual character of seaport towns, where everything from a needle to an anchor is to be obtained. In the older shops, situated under long colonnades and piazzas, many real curiosities from the Moscow workshops and the interior are to be found. Excellent furs and skins are also to be had on more reasonable terms than in the capital. Unintelligible Russian characters are everywhere on the signboards. Whether hiring a drosky or making purchases, everything has to be done by hard bargaining. The fur dealer is never in a hurry; after spreading out his furs and skins on the floor he produces a magnum of vodka and lemon and a box of cigarettes, and then begins business. If he gets about the half he asks for his goods he receives fair value. He may decline such an offer; but the chances are after one has left him he is soon to be found in pursuit, quite willing to close the bargain. Most of the natives wear the flat cap or well-worn old fur hat, the dressing-gown-like robe, and long boots. Business men dress like ourselves. Many ladies wear a small lace shawl over their heads; the majority however dress like those at home. Men of the peasant class wear long and sadly riddled garments, and in most cases nothing but mat or rag wrappings round their feet. Peasant women wear short coloured dresses and white shawls over their heads. Black bread, cabbage-soup, herring, and saur kraut form the chief subsistence of the poor. As is to be expected, military and naval costumes predominate. The officers as a rule are tall, powerful, intelligent-looking men, and look somewhat pompous and imposing as they stride along in their broad military peaked caps, sky-blue cloaks-worn in the hottest of weather-high military boots, and clattering sabres. The private soldier is as a rule small, wiry, and intensely stupid-looking. He has the reputation, however, of being patient and enduring. His uniform consists of a flat round cap, well faded dark-green uniform, with long boots. The military regimen is not overdone, consisting as it does mainly of black bread, cabbage-soup, and certain other articles of diet which Tommy Atkins at home would probably consider only fit for the regimental dog or cat or the barrack rat. The most prominent buildings in Cronstadt are the Governor's residence, the naval and

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military hospital, the colossal barracks and arsenals, and the churches. For the outward forms and ceremonies of his religion the Russian has a profound regard. The symbols of his faith are everywhere. It is curious to find at every street corner the holy ikon or framed picture of the Madonna or some saint, as Nicolas, invariably suspended. There is rarely a shop, office, or place of business or private residence to be found without it. No true Russian will work where the holy picture does not occupy a prominent position. He rarely either passes a church, shrine, or holy picture without uncovering and crossing himself. One shop we observed sold nothing but holy pictures of all sizes and at all prices. The churches here, like those all over Russia, are highly decorated, and display elaborately painted cupolas with glittering crosses overhead. Their interiors are also highly embellished, befitting a church whose services are of the highest ritualistic character. Wherever there are churches in this country there are beggars, and their number is nothing short of a plague in Cronstadt. A great ecclesiastical celebrity at present in this town is the famous Father John, a priest whom the Russians revere for his piety and as the possessor of what they believe to be miraculous gifts. His name is at present as well known as that of the Czar, and his untiring labours on behalf of the toiling and suffering poor have won for him a position of commanding influence all over the empire. The drives and walks round the mole are of much interest, as they afford an opportunity of surveying the complete and extensive character of the defences of this island fortress, and of obtaining fine views of the richly wooded and granite-bound shores of Finland and Esthonia.

Between Cronstadt and the mainland passenger steamers regularly ply. Boarding the steamer and crossing the waters of the beautiful bay we find ourselves after a short but delightful sail on the landing-stage of the picturesque village of Oranienbaum. This is a beautifully wooded district, and is a fashionable summer resort. Flashing through the trees and planted on commanding sites are the lavishly decorated palaces of Menchikoff and the Serguiefka. In this district palaces abound, seemingly vieing with one another in splendour and outward ornamentation. Securing a Russian troika, in charge of a bearded, long-robed, typical Ishvostchik, and horsed with wiry Tartar steeds, we bowled along broad and well-kept roads lined with hedgerows and trees in the richest of foliage to visit Peterhof, the marine palace of the Czar. In succession we pass highly painted châlet-like residences with gay summer shaded verandahs set off with flowers, and looking down upon flower beds

and the trimmest of lawns. These are the summer retreats of the St. Petersburg nobility and merchant princes. It was interesting to contrast with those luxurious establishments the farmhouses and huts of the peasants, constructed of rough logs with piles of wood stored around for fuel purposes. The cattle look miserable and scraggy, the horses light and wiry, and the crops over prolific with weeds. In the fields peasants are forking hay, the women conspicuous in dresses of many colours. Nurses with curious coronet-shaped bead erections on their heads and flaring dresses are airing their youthful charges. Splendid equipages quite equal to those of our home aristocracy are seen, the gentlemen in military costume and the ladies in the latest of Parisian fashions.

The imperial grounds of Peterhof we find to be quite as accessible as any public gardens in London. This resort, which is named after Peter the Great, possesses really fine old avenues of trees. The quaint old residence of Peter, still carefully maintained, is of interest to all lovers of the antique, furnished as it is with all sorts of curious old Dutch nicknacks in which this eccentric ruler seemed to revel. A porter rings a bell outside and immediately from the artificial lake in front countless carp rise to devour the black bread crumbs he throws to them. There are other buildings of much historical interest near the English garden; still the great attraction within the grounds is the magnificent display of fountains. The Russian in his love of the sensational and grotesque has not omitted to exhibit it here. We sit down under what looks a delightful gigantic umbrella, when all at once artificial rain descends as from a thundercloud over it. We are admiring a curious-looking young tree when suddenly from every twig and branch the water bursts forth into spray. We sit down upon a garden seat when all at once the water rushes up from beneath us and causes us to retreat. Artificial waterfalls and lovely cascades stream over rocks and through grottos. Water lashes down stairs all artificially gilt, which in sunshine produces a fine effect. Neptunes and Tritons send the water rushing into basins clad with the choicest of aquatic plants.

The marine palace of the Czar is a huge building with many cupolas, towers, and minarets decorated in old yellow and gold, displaying a somewhat flash and theatrical combination of French and Byzantine architecture. It is situated on a broad terrace, and in front there is a most costly and elaborate marble balustrade. The view from this point under lovely sunshine is quite enchanting. Immediately below are beautiful lawns with flower beds and magnificent fountains in full play. Further down the water as clear as crystal flows down golden