attractions,
induced me to pay a visit to Pulkova. Otto Struve, the director,
had been kind enough to send me a message, expressing the hope that
I would pay him a visit, and giving directions about telegraphing
in advance, so as to insure the delivery of the dispatch. The time
from Berlin to St. Petersburg is about forty-eight hours, the only
through train leaving and arriving in the evening. On the morning
of the day that the train was due I sent the dispatch. Early in
the afternoon, as the train was stopping at a way station, I saw
an official running hastily from one car to another, looking into
each with some concern. When he came to my door, he asked if I had
sent a telegram to Estafetta. I told him I had. He then informed
me that Estafetta had not received it. But the train was already
beginning to move, so there was no further chance to get information.
The comical part of the matter was that "Estafetta" merely means a
post or postman, and that the directions, as Struve had given them,
were to have the dispatch sent by postman from the station to Pulkova.

It was late in the evening when the train reached Zarsko-Selo,
the railway station for Pulkova, which is about five miles away.
The station-master told me that no carriage from Pulkova was waiting
for me, which tended to confirm the fear that the dispatch had not
been received. After making known my plight, I took a seat in the
station and awaited the course of events, in some doubt what to do.
Only a few minutes had elapsed when a good-looking peasant, well
wrapped in a fur overcoat, with a whip in his hand, looked in at
the door, and pronounced very distinctly the words, "Observatorio
Pulkova." Ah! this is Struve's driver at last, thought I, and I
followed the man to the door. But when I looked at the conveyance,
doubt once more supervened. It was scarcely more than a sledge,
and was drawn by a single horse, evidently more familiar with hard
work than good feeding. This did not seem exactly the vehicle that
the great Russian observatory would send out to meet a visitor;
yet it was a far country, and I was not acquainted with its customs.

The way in which my doubt was dispelled shows that there is one
subject besides love on which difference of language is no bar to
the communication of ideas. This is the desire of the uncivilized
man for a little coin of the realm. In South Africa, Zulu chiefs,
who do not know one other word of English, ca