s to
that great painter.

The day after my arrival I went to visit a magnificent cataract at
some distance from the town. A huge mass of water--you cannot tell
where it comes from--forms a torrent so rapid and powerful that in its
course it runs up enormous rocks, from which it tumbles noisily down
to rush up other rocks. The multitudinous cascades thus shooting after
each other in succession, and swallowing each other up, produce a
terrifying din. While I was occupied in sketching this beautiful
horror some of the inhabitants of Narva who were watching me told me
of a dreadful thing they had witnessed. The waters of the cataract,
swollen by great rains, had carried away some of the bank, and with it
a house that was the home of a family. The cries of distress of the
unfortunates were heard, and their frightful plight was seen, but no
aid could be given them, since it was impossible to steer a boat in
the torrent. The heartrending spectacle was finally followed by one
far more shocking, when the house and the unhappy family were
engulfed, and disappeared before the eyes of those who were now
narrating the catastrophe, and who were still quite affected by it.

Arriving at Riga, I found that this town, like Narva, was neither
handsome nor well-paved, but it is known to be a great commercial
place and has a fine harbour. Most of the men are habited like Turks
or Poles, and all women not of the populace put a gauze veil over
their heads when they go out. I scarcely had time to make other
observations, as I was hastening to reach Mittau, where I still hoped
to find the royal family. But to my annoyance I arrived too late and
did not meet them, so that I made but a short stay in this town, where
I had only gone for the sake of seeing our Princes.

I had taken the post from St. Petersburg, but at Riga we met the
Grand Duchess of Baden, who was on her way to the Empress, her
daughter, and who left not a horse on our route. I was obliged to hire
horses at livery-stables, and the coachman, instead of putting me down
for the night at the posthouses, took me to wretched cabins where
there were no beds and nothing to eat, so that in most cases I spent
the night in my carriage. As for food, the soup I got was made without
meat, but with carrots and bad butter. If I had a fowl killed it was
so lean and so tough that M. de Riviere and I were unable to cut it.
And we barely had time to finish these miserable meals, in so great
haste