FRO A TRIP FROM ST. PETERSBURGH TO CONSTANTINOPLE. AROM the city of the Czar to the city the Sultan! It is a trip worth taking even in these perilous times. You, reader, are gunpowder-proof in your snug retreat, and for "ourself" if a bullet pierces "us," we shall write you no more letters! "That's all;" and certainly that is not much. But before this catastrophe overtakes me, I will make sure of some notes respecting my present locale-this wonderful city. The day of my arrival I was overwhelmed with admiration. I was incessantly exclaiming, This is the most beautiful city in the world, as I viewed its magnificent quais, or found myself in the midst of its VOL. V. 1 immense squares, surrounded by its numerous monuments, or paced its streets so wide, so long, and so perfectly straight. But this impression grew fainter from day to day. I continued to admire what was worthy of admiration; but criticisms began to mingle with my eulogies, and it was often necessary to remind myself that St. Petersburgh had only existed a century and a half-that in fact, notwithstanding the rigors of its climate, it is a hothouse plant forced into its present flourishing appearance by the ascendency of its indomitable founder. Truth obliges me to acknowledge that I at last yawned in front of the very buildings which first delighted. |