“The ship,” he answered, and then added that the cargo was fire-brick, made in England, and brought here for the Russians, who make great use of it in their stoves. He did not like the Russians, he said, and hoped he should never have to come there again.
Our boatman landed us on the western shore, and as we walked up and down the river enjoying the evening breeze, he soon passed us with another company in his boat, and taking off his cap saluted us as old customers with a grace that would do credit to a Paris waterman.
It was half-past nine o’clock when we saw the last rays of the sun on the spire of the arsenal church, and we then went home. It is now eleven o’clock at night, and I am writing by the light from the window opening into a court. It would be easy to write all night without a candle.
A Russian Porter.
CHAPTER XXVI.
FROM ST. PETERSBURG TO MOSCOW.
MY roughest railroad ride in Europe was from St. Petersburg to Moscow. It did not improve the road to be told, as I was, that it was built by American engineers; but it did jolt me so naturally that I felt at home as soon as we were under way. And there was a slight infusion of a familiar morality in the excuse made for the present condition of the road, that the managers of it under the government were seeking to buy it, and were letting it run down that they might get it at a lower figure!
A great throng of friends were at the station to take leave of the passengers about to set off for Moscow. It is a ride of about twenty hours; hardly a journey to call for as much leave-taking as with us demands a voyage over sea. The journey of four hundred miles includes the whole night and part of two days, and only one train a day, with no good place to stop for the night, so that we are literally shut up to the necessity of going through at once. The arrangements for sleeping are of the rudest kind. Into the cars the passengers brought pillows and blankets, preparing to make themselves as comfortable as circumstances would permit. The fare through was $15, and my little trunk of less than fifty pounds weight was $1.50 extra. As soon as we were off, a man decorated with three medals entered with an armful of newspapers for sale, and as many bought them and read them as in a car going out of New York or Boston. It was a good sign. Small thanks are due to the government from the press, however. It is subjected to the strictest censorship. No foreign papers are allowed to come into the country, unless they are subscribed for by permission, and then they are interdicted if any thing dangerous to the existing order of things is in them. Nothing unfriendly to good morals is allowed to be printed, and an excellent regulation requires the examination and approval of all plays before they can be put upon the stage. These barbarians of the north will not have the luxury of the “dirty drama” which is so fascinating to the highly cultivated Parisians and New Yorkers.
A lady and gentleman entered the car as we were just starting, and could not get a double seat; it was a long car like our own, with seats on each side of the passage. They could find separate seats, but they were to ride all night, and of course desired to sit side by side. They sought to make exchanges, but in vain. Seeing their distress, my son and I agreed to separate and surrender our places to them. Their gratitude was equal to their surprise. “We were French, they were sure.” Not at all. “Ah no, we were English.” By no means. “And pray, would we tell them of what nation?” Americans: and they were nearly overcome with pleasure, and poured out their grateful acknowledgments.
At Lubanskaia we stopped to dine, and you will be more amused by reading the names of some of the places we touched in passing, than by the names of the dishes we had for dinner. Thus we passed through Kolpinskaia, Sablinskaia, Ouschkinskaia, Babinskaia, Tehondoskaia, Volkhooskaia, Guadskaia, Mainvisheskaia, Bourgurnskaia, Borooenskaia, Okouloviskaia, Zarebchenkeskaia, Kaloschkooskaia, Ostaschkooskaia, Reschchilkooskaia, Paadsulnelchookaia; but I am getting a headache in copying them out of the time-table, and will spare you. Wales is nothing to Russia for hard names.