Perhaps the most thoroughly Russian of all the _tschornoi narod_ are the _isvoshtshiks_, or public drivers; at least they are the class with whom the traveler comes most immediately and necessarily into contact, and from whom he derives his idea of them. Such is the extent of St. Petersburg, that when the foreigner has sated his curiosity with the general aspect of the streets, he finds that he can not afford time to walk from one object of interest to another. Moreover, in winter—and here winter means fully six months in the year—the streets are spread with a thick covering of snow, which soon becomes beaten up into powdered crystals, through which locomotion is as difficult as through the deepest sands of Sahara; and the wind whirls these keen crystals about like the sand-clouds of the desert. Every body not to the manner born, whose pleasures or avocations call him abroad, is glad to draw his mantle over his face, and creeping into a sledge, wrap himself up as closely as he may in furs. In spring and summer, when the streets are usually either a marsh or choked with intolerable dust, pedestrianism is equally disagreeable. All this has called into requisition a host of Jehus, so that the stranger who has mastered enough Russian to call out _Davai ishvoshtshik_! “Here, driver!” or even lifts his hand by way of signal, has seldom need to repeat the summons. Like his cart-borne kindred, the Tartars and Scythians, the _ishvoshtshik_ makes his vehicle his home. In it he eats, drinks, and often sleeps, rolling himself up into a ball in the bottom, to present as little surface as possible to the action of the cold.—Russian-like, he always names a price for his services that will leave ample room for abatement. But once engaged, and he is for the time being your servant, and accepts any amount of abuse or beating as the natural condition of the bargain. [Illustration.] Ishvoshtshiks. The _mujik_ of every class seems indeed to be born ready bitted, for the use of anyone who has a hand steady enough to hold the reins. They are the best servants in the world for one who has the gift of command. It is this adaptation between the strong-willed autocrats who since Peter have swayed the destinies of Russia, and the serviceable nature of the people, that has raised the empire to its present position. A single weak ruler would change the whole destiny of Russia. Notwithstanding the hardships of their lives, the _isvoshtshiks_ are good-natured, merry, harmless, fellows, whether waiting for a fare or bantering a customer. But they have one thorn; and that is the pedestrian. Woe to the driver who runs against a foot-man; fine and flogging are his portion. If the pedestrian be thrown down, visions of Siberia float before the driver’s eye; to say nothing of the pleasant foretaste of the policeman’s cane and the confiscation of his vehicle.