On the 17th of April a deputation of seventy-three Polish peasants from the government of Warsaw and Radom arrived in St. Petersburg to convey to the Emperor the thanks of the agricultural labourers in Poland for the benefits conferred upon them by the decree. The authorities made a great fuss with them; they were lionized over the town in great cross-seated brakes, and it was good to see their happiness and their unconcealed wonder at all the great sights of St. Petersburg. Most of them had probably never been outside the circuit of their own lonely villages. They created a great sensation, some dressed in Polish costume, but all wearing the square national cap—wild-looking fellows enough, but obviously quite tame and trustworthy, for only ten policemen were told off to look after them. The crowning point of their joy was reached when the Tsar received them in person, and gave them a dinner at the Winter Palace. What fairy tales they would have to tell when they should arrive at their farms and cottages hidden among the desolate swamps and forests of Poland! The outing lasted for several days, and on the 23rd I went with Lord Napier to the banquet given to the deputation and to an equal number of specially selected Russian peasants from the district round the capital, who were told off to entertain the strangers and do the honours of the city. As they did not understand one word of one another’s language, their comradeship must have lacked gaiety. But the meeting symbolized the union of the two nations, and in spite of the dearth of conversation, it made a good appearance of fraternization, and that was held to be much. The banquet took place in the Gorodskaia Duma, a sort of extraordinarily shabby town hall, something like a second-class waiting-room at a railway station. However, the frame was a secondary consideration so long as the picture was all right. Presently there was a great stir outside and we were told that the Emperor was arriving. On hearing this joyful news, an enthusiastic Pole near me spat freely into his hands and proceeded to plaster down his hair and wash his face like a cat. _Un petit bout de toilette!_ as Wigan, the great actor, used to say in _The First Night_. The loyal joy with which the Emperor was received was very touching. As usual, he played his part most nobly, was very gracious and kingly, and as he walked round the hall had a smile and a kind word for almost every one of the men. When he had finished his round one of the men shouted in a stentorian voice: “Let us drink to the Tsar.” This raised a thunder of applause and cheering, after which the Emperor, standing in the midst of the hall, was served with a glass of wine and said: “I drink to the indissoluble union of the two nations!” This, of course, was received with yells of joy, the men cheering like Eton boys on the Fourth of June.