for St. Petersburg. Having paid for every article real and imaginary;
paid each servant individually for looking at me; then paid for
domestic services generally; paid the proprietor for speaking his
native language, which was German, and the commissioner for wearing a
brass band on his cap, and bowing several times as I passed out, the
whole matter was amicably concluded, and, with my knapsack on my back,
I wended my way down to the steam-boat landing of the Wasseli-Ostrow.
As I was about to step on board the Russian steamer bound for
Revel--an eager crowd of passengers pressing in on the plankway from
all sides--I was forcibly seized by the arm. Supposing it to be an
arrest for some unconscious violation of the police regulations, a
ghastly vision of Siberia flashed upon my mind as I turned to demand
an explanation. But it was not a policeman who arrested me--it was
only my friend, Herr Batz, the rope-maker, who, with a flushed face
and starting eyes, gazed at me. "Where are you going?" said he. "To
Revel," said I. Almost breathless from his struggle to get at me, he
forcibly pulled me aside from the crowd, drew me close up to him, and
in a hoarse whisper uttered these remarkable words: "_Hempf is up!_ It
took a rise yesterday--_Zweimal zwey macht vier, und sechsmal vier
macht vier und zwanzig! verstehen sie?_" "Gott im Himmel!" said I,
"you don't say so?" "_Ya, freilich!_" groaned Herr Batz, hoarsely:
"_Zwey tausent rubles! verstehen sie? Sechs und dreissig, und acht und
vierzig._" "Ya! ya!" said I, grasping him cordially by the hand, for I
was afraid the steamer would leave--"_Adjeu, mein Herr! adjeu!_" and I
darted away into the crowd. The last I saw of the unfortunate
rope-maker, he was standing on the quay, waving his red cotton
handkerchief at me. As the lines were cast loose, and the steamer
swung out into the river, he put both hands to his mouth, and shouted
out something which the confusion of sounds prevented me from hearing
distinctly. I was certain, however, that the last word that fell upon
my ear was "_hempf_!"

The Neva at this season of the year presents a most animated and
picturesque appearance. A little above the landing-place of the Baltic
steamers, a magnificent bridge connects the Wasseli-Ostrow with the
main part of the city, embracing the Winter Palace, the Admiralty, and
the Nevskoi, generally known as the Bolshaia, or Great Side. Below
this bridge, as far as the eye can reach in the direct