Torrents of rain. Anyone can draw water--but draw
rain! Yes, when on horseback, I can draw rein. Good that, "when you
come to think of it,"--considering that I'm 1900 miles from an English
joke, so that this you may say is far-fetched, only 'tisn't fetched
at all, as I send it. Think I've left out an "0," and it's 19,000. _It
seems like it_. Here we are in Petersburg. Mist's cleared off. We're
anchored close to Winter Palace, and I've just seen a droschki-driver,
whom I sketch. Not unlike old toy Noah's-Ark man, eh? Something
humorous at last, thank Heaven! But did I come 1900 miles to see this?
Well, "Neva no more!"
[Illustration: Droschki-Driver.]
Mister Skipper says I ought to go to the _Petershoff_. All very well
to say so, but where is _Peter_, and now far is he "hoff"? That's
humorous, I think, eh? You told me to go and "pick up bits of Russian
life," and so I'm going to do it at the risk of my own, I feel sure,
for I never saw such chaps as these soldiers, six feet three at the
least, every man Jackski of 'em, and broad out of all proportion.
However, I'll go on shore, and try to get some fun out of the
Russians, if there's any _in_ them.
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