ing almost by
accident--was of Dutch build. It arrived in November, 1703, and Peter
himself served as pilot to bring it up to the town. Great was the
astonishment of the skipper, on being afterwards presented to the czar,
to recognize in him his late pilot. And Peter's delight was equally
great on learning that the ship had been freighted by Cornelis Calf, one
of his old Zaandam friends. The skipper was feasted to his heart's
content and presented with five hundred ducats, while each sailor
received thirty thalers, and the ship was renamed the St. Petersburg.
Two other ships appeared the same year, one Dutch and one English, and
their skippers and crews received the same reward. These pioneer vessels
were exempted forever from all tolls and dues at that port.

St. Petersburg, as it exists to-day, bears very little resemblance to
the city of Peter's plan. To his successors are due the splendid granite
quays, which aid in keeping out the overflowing stream, the rows of
palaces, the noble churches and public buildings, the statues, columns,
and other triumphs of architecture which abundantly adorn the great
modern capital. The marshy island soil has been lifted by two centuries
of accretions, while the main city has crept up from its old location to
the mainland, where the fashionable quarters and the government offices
now stand.

St. Petersburg is still exposed to yearly peril by overflow. The violent
autumnal storms, driving the waters of the gulf into the channel of the
stream, back up terrible floods. The spring-time rise in the lakes which
feed the Neva threatens similar disaster. In 1721 Peter himself narrowly
escaped drowning in the Nevski Prospect, now the finest street in
Europe.

Of the floods that have desolated the city, the greatest was that of
November, 1824. Driven into the river's mouth by a furious southwest
storm, the waters of the gulf were heaped up to the first stories of the
houses even in the highest streets. Horses and carriages were swept
away; bridges were torn loose and floated off; numbers of houses were
moved from their foundations; a full regiment of carbineers, who had
taken refuge on the roof of their barracks, perished in the furious
torrent. At Cronstadt the waters rose so high that a hundred-gun ship
was left stranded in the market-place. The czar, who had just returned
from a long journey to the east, found himself made captive in his own
palace. Standing on the balcony which looks u