the Prussian frontier, whether in midsummer or in midwinter, was one of intolerable fatigue and discomfort, the only choice of evils being between death from intense cold, and suffocation from intense heat, without one spot of interest or beauty to vary the monotony of the way. If railway travelling, however, be not to the majority, as it is to me, more fatiguing than posting, matters are greatly improved; for justice and truth compel me to admit that Russian railways, if they are slow and constantly on the halt-more for the benefit of the owners of the buffets than the convenience or gastronomic indulgence of travellers— are replete with comfort; more so, indeed, than those of any other nation in which it has been my good or evil fortune to journey. But here we are in that vast capital, where the magnificent statue of its founder, the great Peter, turns his horse's tail towards the colossal gilded dome of St. Isaac's, a mighty edifice, built, at the cost of millions, on a foundation of piles, which the public voice declares already to be sinking. However, as regards Petersburg, and its palaces, and museums,

and monasteries, I must refer my readers to other pages; I invite them to take a walk, provided they are in good physical condition, in search of bric-a-brac. The exchange, an event of rare occurrence, was at nine roubles the pound sterling at the moment I wrote these lines; now, I believe, only seven; so that, in spite of the absurd price generally asked for articles, good, bad, and indifferent, we may chance to make a few good bargains.

Ten years since, in the days when Russian railways were not, and upsets in snowstorms were as common as telegrams, the capital of All the Russias was-I mean no pun-a capital place for bric-à-brac ; and here and there is still to be found much that is worthy of the collector's researches. But, alas! at St. Petersburg, as elsewhere, that which might once have been secured for a rouble is now difficult to obtain for a pound. I suggest to the connoisseur who first visits the city of the Czars to select some friend, if he has one, who speaks the language—in default of a friend, pay an interpreter-and then drive to the porcelain manufactory, situated about four versts (or three

miles) from the city. I do not say the drive is a pleasant one, far from it; but without trouble, and the exercise of patience and endurance, there is seldom much to be gained. So submit cheerfully to be bumped for two versts over an ill-paved city, and to be rebumped for two more over the vilest of roads. Even should you require a sheet of diachylon plaster on your return, you will neither regret the pain nor the outlay.

The manufactory in question, which commenced under the auspices of Catharine, has existed for more than a century, and is still under the protection of the empire. In other days, previous to the reduction of duties on foreign importations, which now fill the market, it did a thriving home trade. Even now, I cannot speak too highly either of the workmen or the work produced in the factory. True, there is little originality of taste or design; but the copies, particularly those of figures and groups, taken from the models of Dresden, Berlin, and elsewhere, are equal to, and in some measure more accurate and life-like, as well as more delicate in outline and effect, than

those produced in later days either at Meissen or the royal manufactory of the latter city, and infinitely cheaper. For the most part they are uncoloured; but the glaze is very clear and smooth; and I have been fortunate enough to obtain some specimens worthy of, and equal to, any of the productions in Europe. The painting—generally, I fancy, the work of German artists—is equally beautiful; and some vases and déjeûners sent to the Exhibitions of 1851 and 1862 in England, and which were unfortunately returned in some measure broken, were magnificent specimens of the ceramic art. A little more originality-figures and forms possessing more nationality of character— is all that is wanting to enable the produce of the Russian imperial factory to vie with the ceramic chefs-d'œuvre of present and past ages.

There are few of what may be fairly termed bric-à-brac shops in Petersburg,--in fact, the only two I know of, where objets d'art, as they are termed, may be found, and to which I can recommend a visit with the hope of any successful result, are those of Messrs. Negri and G. Tognolati;

the former on the Nevsky Prospect, the latter at No. 39, Kameney Ostrowskey Prospect. Mr. Negri is a most obliging, agreeable person to deal with; and I must do him the justice to say that I have on more than one occasion purchased from him some exquisite Wedgwood medallions, as also some small but choice specimens of Sèvres, Vienna, and Berlin china, at a very reasonable outlay. Mr. Tognolati, an Italian,-who has recently left the city for what may be termed the immediate environs, and combines his dealings in objets d'art· with the fabrication of macaroni, in both of which pursuits, to all appearance, he is successful,-has also occasionally some fine specimens of carved furniture, and is always ready and obliging in showing what he has to the stranger, even should no purchases be made. He looks for rather higher gains than Mr. Negri. A packet of paper roubles will not go far with either gentleman, however.

But though Negri's and Tognolati's are the only bric-à-brac shops of which I have any practical knowledge, there is a vast field for the hunter alike in Petersburg and Moscow, though it has never as