rpeting the banks of the Moskva, while the
plain was wooded with thriving groves up to the convent walls and
outlying buildings of the town. Just back of the tea-houses, crowning
the hill, is an ancient birch forest which was planted by Peter the
Great, the practical old man having occupied many days in
consummating this purpose, during which he worked laboriously among
his people, setting out and arranging the birches. The local guides
never fail to take all travellers who visit the Muscovite city to
Sparrow Hill, where it is quite the thing to drink a tumbler of
steaming hot Russian tea, with the universal slice of lemon floating
thereon. This tasteless decoction has not even the virtue of
strength, but is merely hot water barely colored with an infusion of
leaves. However, as it is quite the thing to do, one swallows the
mixture heroically. A more pleasant drive of about four or five miles
from the centre of the city, over a far better road than that which
leads to Sparrow Hill, will take the stranger to a most delightful
place of resort known as the Petrofski Park, ornamented with noble
old elms in great variety, flower-beds, blooming shrubbery,
fountains, and delightfully smooth roads. The lime, the elm, the
sycamore, and the oak all flourish here, mingled with which were some
tall specimens of the pine and birch. The place is the very
embodiment of sylvan beauty, and has been devoted to its present
purpose for a century and more, having first been laid out in 1775.
Within these grounds is the interesting old Palace of Petrofski, a
Gothic structure which, though seldom inhabited, is kept always
prepared for noble guests by a corps of retainers belonging to the
Government. It is frequently the resort of the Emperor when he comes
to Moscow, and always the place from whence a new emperor proceeds to
the Kremlin to be officially crowned. It was to this palace that
Napoleon fled from his quarters in the city when Moscow was being
destroyed by the flames. The _cafes chantants_ are many, within the
precincts of the Park,--gay resorts of dissipation, whither the
people come ostensibly to drink tea, but really to consume beer,
wine, and corn-brandy, as well as to assist at the oftentimes very
coarse entertainments which are here presented, characterized by the
most reckless sort of can-can dancing and bacchanalian songs. Bands
of music perform in different parts of the extensive grounds, and
gaudily-dressed gypsy girls sing