1 66 By Stream and Sea. 



third person is frequently an undesirable institution; and 

 our New Year's Eve party was of the right composition. 

 We stepped into the sledge just as the Russian Old Year 

 had entered into its last hour, and was approaching its disso- 

 lution amidst a moaning and sobbing of bells from many a 

 dome, the deep musical boom of St. Isaac's rising grandly 

 above them all, as if to bid them take heart of grace for the 

 good time coming. 



All the gay city was astir. During the afternoon I had 

 spent some time in that wonderful conglomerate of curiosity 

 shops, the Grand Bazaar, and had been amused by the 

 Russian juveniles, waddling about in their furs. The scene 

 brought to mind other similar wanderings of a recent date 

 through our smaller home bazaars, where English children 

 laughed and chattered, clapped their hands at the toys, 

 and looked wonderingly at the Christmas trees. That is 

 precisely what the Russian children were doing yesterday, 

 with the difference, however, that though children are pretty 

 much of a pattern all the world over, the Muscovite young- 

 sters, as I saw them making the round of the huge mart 

 with their parents and guardians, seemed preternaturally 

 grave and silent. 



Towards evening, the weather, which had been strangely 

 "green" for the time and place, became colder. Light 

 snow flakes drifted crosswise in the air, and there was frost 

 in the breeze. Unfortunately the streets were not in the 

 best of order for sleighing, nor would they be until there 

 were several inches more of snow. With frost, even when 

 it amounts to the three or four degrees which we then had, 

 a little snow certainly goes a long way, but if it is not soon 

 replenished it wears out, so to speak, with constant traffic, 

 and lays bare the palpable ruts and hollows of this city on a 

 swamp. However, we were bound across the Neva, and had 



