a "tight but elegant" little garden, for summer use.
It was thronged from morning till night with Tatar old-clothes men and
soldiers from the garrison, for whom it was the rendezvous. The horse
beef had been provided for the Tatars, who considered it a special
dainty, and had been palmed off upon us because it was cheap.

I may dismiss the subject of the genial Mikhei here, with the remark
that we met him the following summer at the Samson Inn, in Peterhoff,
where he served our breakfast with an affectionate solicitude which
somewhat alarmed us for his sobriety. He was very much injured in
appearance by long hair thrown back in artistic fashion, and a livid
gash which scored one side of his face down to his still unbrushed
teeth, and nearly to his unwashed shirt, narrowly missing one eye, and
suggested possibilities of fight in him which, luckily for our peace of
mind, we had not suspected the previous season.

Our chambermaid at first, at the Tzarskoe hostelry, was a lad fourteen
years of age, who dusted in the most wonderfully conscientious way
without being asked, like a veteran trained housekeeper. We supposed
that male chambermaids were the fashion, judging from the offices which
we had seen our St. Petersburg hotel "boots" perform, and we said
nothing. A Russian friend who came to call on us, however, was shocked,
and, without our knowledge, gave the landlord a lecture on the subject,
the first intimation of which was conveyed to us by the appearance of a
maid who had been engaged "expressly for the service of our high
nobilities;" price, five rubles a month (two dollars and a half; she
chanced to live in the attic lodgings), which they did not pay her, and
which we gladly gave her. Her conversation alone was worth three times
the money. Our "boots" in St. Petersburg got but four rubles a month,
out of which he was obliged to clothe himself, and furnish the brushes,
wax, and blacking for the boots; and he had not had a single day's
holiday in four years, when we made his acquaintance. I won his eternal
devotion by "placing a candle" vicariously to the Saviour for him on
Christmas Day, and added one for myself, to harmonize with the brotherly
spirit of the season.

Andrei, the boy, never wholly recovered from the grief and resentment
caused by being thus supplanted, and the imputation cast upon his powers
of caring for us. He got even with us on at least two occasions, for the
offense of which we were innocent.