o take a ride.
There are days, it is true, when all the cabmen in town seem to have
entered into a league and agreed to demand a ruble for a drive of half a
dozen blocks; and again, though rarely, they will offer to carry one
miles for one fifth of that sum, which is equally unreasonable in the
other direction. In either case one has his bargaining sport, at one end
of the journey or the other. I find among my notes an illustration of
this operation, which, however, falls far short of a conversation which
I once overheard between a lower-class official and an _izvostchik_, who
could not come to terms. It ended in the uniformed official exclaiming:
"You ask too much. I'll use my own horses," raising a large foot, and
waving it gently at the cabmen.

"Home-made!" (literally, "self-grown") retorted one _izvostchik_. The
rival bidders for custom shrieked with laughter at his wit, the official
fled, and I tried in vain--wonderful to relate--to get the attention
of the group and offer them a fresh opportunity for discussion by trying
to hire one of them.

My note-book furnishes the following: "If anybody wants a merry
_izvostchik_, with a stylish flourishing red beard, I can supply him. I
do not own the man at present, but he has announced his firm intention
of accompanying me to America. I asked him how he would get along
without knowing the language?

"'I'd serve you forever!' said he.

"'How could I send you on an errand?' said I.

"'I'd serve you forever!' said he.

"That was the answer to every objection on my part. He and a
black-haired _izvostchik_ have a fight for my custom nearly every time I
go out. Fighting for custom--in words--is the regular thing, but the
way these men do it convulses with laughter everybody within hearing,
which is at least half a block. It is the fashion here to take an
interest in chafferings with cabmen and in other street scenes.

"'She's to ride with me!' shouts one. '_Barynya_, I drove you to Vasily
Island one day, you remember!' 'She's going with me; you get out!' yells
the other. 'She drove on the Nevsky with me long before she ever saw
you; didn't you, _barynya_? and the Liteinaya,' and so on till he has
enumerated more streets than I have ever heard of. 'And we're old, old
friends, aren't we, barynya? And look at my be-e-autiful horse!'

"'Your horse looks like a soiled and faded glove,' I retort, 'and I
won't have you fight over me. Settle it between yourselves,' and I walk