mbinations; by night, with
colored lanterns. Each section of the city has a signal-tower of this
sort, and the engine-house is close at hand. Gradskaya Duma means,
literally, city thought, and the profundity of the meditations sometimes
indulged in in this building, otherwise not remarkable, may be inferred
from the fact discovered a few years ago, that many honored members of
the Duma (which also signifies the Council of City Fathers), whose names
still stood on the roll, were dead, though they continued to vote and
exercise their other civic functions with exemplary regularity!

Naturally, in a city which lies on a level with the southern point of
Greenland, the most characteristic season to select for our observations
of the life is winter.

The Prospekt wakes late. It has been up nearly all night, and there is
but little inducement to early rising when the sun itself sets such a
fashion as nine o'clock for its appearance on the horizon, like a pewter
disk, with a well-defined hard rim, when he makes his appearance at all.
If we take the Prospekt at different hours, we may gain a fairly
comprehensive view of many Russian ways and people, cosmopolitan as the
city is.

At half-past seven in the morning, the horse-cars, which have been
resting since ten o'clock in the evening, make a start, running always
in groups of three, stopping only at turnouts. The _dvorniki_ retire
from the entrance to the courtyards, where they have been sleeping all
night with one eye open, wrapped in their sheepskin coats. A few shabby
_izvostchiks_ make their appearance somewhat later, in company with
small schoolboys, in their soldierly uniforms, knapsacks of books on
back, and convoyed by servants. Earliest of all are the closed carriages
of officials, evidently the most lofty in grade, since it was decided,
two or three years ago, by one of this class, that his subordinates
could not reasonably be expected to arrive at business before ten or
eleven o'clock after they had sat up until daylight over their
indispensable club _vint_--which is Russian whist.

Boots (_muzhiki_) in scarlet cotton blouses, and full trousers of black
velveteen, tucked into tall wrinkled boots, dart about to bakery and
dairy shop, preparing for their masters' morning "tea." Venders of
newspapers congregate at certain spots, and charge for their wares in
inverse ratio to the experience of their customers; for regular
subscribers receive their papers through the