Memories of the Neva. 1 8 1 



in rear and front of the regiments. There was a call to 

 "attention" echoed in twenty directions, and a commotion 

 amongst the grooms and horses near the palace entrance. 

 The Emperor was mounting, and with him mounted also 

 the Crown Prince of Germany, in the uniform of one of 

 the Russian regiments. The Emperor is a fine man, but 

 Frederick William in the saddle is a finer, sits his horse 

 more solidly, and has the stamp of service upon him. The 

 bands broke out into brazen and loud welcome of the 

 Emperor, and the soldiers saluted as he rode down the front 

 of the palace to join his other guests and pick up the 

 officers who compose his staff. The British dog that always 

 scampers over the course at Epsom, and takes part in the 

 manoeuvres at Wimbledon, is also a Russian institution. 

 Just as the Royal horsemen were abreast of my position a 

 fine grenadier-looking Newfoundlander galloped down the 

 ranks, and was chivied by a gendarme. Some of the bands 

 during the inspection played a bit of Strauss's Blue Danube, 

 in a wild barbaric tom-tom style, that clashed horribly with 

 the English National Anthem, heard in honour of the 

 English princes, in other parts of the Square. The Czar 

 passed far away on his tour of inspection, but we could 

 follow him by the explosive shouts of the regiments as he 

 reached them. Every soldier is bound by order to join in 

 this salute, and the clash of the tom-tom music, the volleys 

 of cheers, and the substratum of " God Save the Queen," 

 mingling together in a kind of salad, made something 

 remarkable in the way of noise. The soldiers, just before 

 the return of the Emperor's cavalcade of some two hundred 

 strong, had been allowed to stand at ease, a privilege which 

 they employed to jump a little warmth into their feet. 

 Seizing their bayonets with both hands they bobbed up and 

 down in very comical fashion. You looked over a solid 



