THE START FROM MOSCOW. 59 



like, had no idea, however, of the population and size 

 of the city, though he had been born and educated in 

 it, we rode over Moscow's execrable pavements, then 

 emerged on to a macadam road. Workmen from the 

 quarter we had just passed through had preceded us in 

 this direction hours before, and were now met in the 

 character of teamsters, bringing in petroleum from the 

 big iron tanks that loomed up in the distance ahead. 



Though Moscow can boast of its electric light as 

 well as of gas, it is yet a city of petroleum. Coal is 

 dear, and, in the matter of electric lights and similar 

 innovations from the wide-awake Western world, 

 Moscow is, as ever, doggedly conservative. So repug- 

 nant, indeed, to this stronghold of ancient and honor- 

 able Muscovite sluggishness, is the necessity of keeping 

 abreast with the spirit of modern improvement, that 

 the houses are not yet even numbered. There are no 

 numbers to the houses in Moscow ; only the streets 

 are officially known by name. To find anybody's 

 address, you must repair to the street, and inquire of 

 the policeman or drosky driver, who are the most 

 likely persons to know, for the house belonging to Mr. 

 So-and-so, or in which that gentleman lives. It seems 

 odd that in a country where the authorities deem it 

 necessary to know where to put their hand on any 

 person at a moment's notice, the second city of the 

 empire should be, in 1890, without numbers to its 

 houses. 



The macadam road, though just without the city, 

 and thronged with produce and petroleum wagons, 

 was but a slight improvement on the cobbled streets. 

 We were glad when we eventually found ourselves 



