V 

 From Riga to St. Petersburg 



THE closing incident of Riga's hospitality is 

 worthy of note. I had been advised to make 

 ready to go to the railway station for Petrograd, 

 on the evening of my departure, an hour and a half 

 before the train was to start. At the appointed 

 hour, a troyka sent by the Governor, three fine 

 horses abreast, stood at the door to take me to the 

 station. Over the well-paved streets of the city, 

 out into the suburbs, our team dashed away, the 

 middle horse, under the gilded duga, trotting a 

 square eight-mile gait, the outsiders on a lively 

 gallop. The driver arrayed in dark blue frock, 

 with a light blue silken girdle, scarlet sleeves, vel- 

 vet cap encircled with feathers, and driving reins 

 matching his girdle, displayed extraordinary skill 

 in driving his steeds, without a whip, simply by 

 dexterous manipulation of the blue ribbons and 

 an occasional kind word. Every other vehicle on 

 the streets took to the curb line on our approach, 



47 



