k horse that I would like to possess;
he goes like an East Prussian, but is very spirited, and I constantly
found myself in the front among the grand dukes. But I shall get on
well with him when we know each other better. He needs a quiet rider
with a firm seat, and a light hand on the reins.

This evening at sunset, I again ascended the Kremlin. _"Diem perdidi"_
I should say of the day of my sojourn there in which I did not visit
this wonderful structure.

I descended to the Moskwa, and, from under the fine quay, examined the
massive white walls, the towers and the gate forts which surround the
Czar's palace, and a whole town of churches of the strangest
structure. Tonight the city gives a grand entertainment, from which I
shall absent myself to write. One receives so many impressions that it
is impossible to digest them all and collect one's thoughts.

I am trying to understand this architecture. In Culm, in West Prussia,
I saw last year in the marketplace such a curious City Hall that I
could not reconcile it in my mind; now I understand that it is
Moscovite architecture. The Knights of the Sword of Liefland were in
intimate connection with the German Knights in Prussia, and one of
their architects may have repeated on the Vistula what he had seen on
the Moskwa.

The fountains here remind one of the East; little, round covered
houses on the principal squares, which are constantly surrounded by
men and beasts supplying themselves with water. At first they seem
rude and awkward when compared with the fine style, the rich
sculpture, the golden railings, and the perforated marble walls of the
Tschesmas of Constantinople. There are here, as in the mosques, swarms
of doves that are so bold that they scarcely leave room for carriages
and foot-passengers. They are often chased out of the shops like a
brood of chickens, and they go everywhere for food. No one does them
any harm, and the Russians think it a sin to eat them. The Gostinoy
Dwor (the merchants' court) is especially a repetition of the Oriental
Tschurchi. One booth is next to the other, and the narrow passages
that separate them are covered; therefore the same dim light and the
same smell of leather and spices exist as at the Missir, or Egyptian
market, in Constantinople. The wares here, however, are mostly
European, and cheaper at home, so that we are not much tempted to buy.

If I had my choice, I would rather live in Moscow than in St.
Petersburg.

Peter