I have already explained the quaking spirit in which I crossed the frontier. It so happened that Russia was the first country I visited when appointed to take charge of the jurisdiction, and, as to so many others, there was something forbidding to me in the very name of Russia. I knew at that time also that my visitations would bring me, as they have done, into contact with other sovereigns, and with great personages in other countries, and here at St. Petersburg I was to begin with the most unknown and, as one thought of his vast empire, most overwhelming of them all. And then--but let me describe an audience at the palace at Tsarskoe Selo, for it will probably interest many a reader, and also explain how very different from a somewhat perturbed anticipation was the pleasurable reality. I have taken care to satisfy myself beforehand that I shall not be transgressing any of the rules of court etiquette, nor be guilty of any breach of confidence in so doing. Audiences abroad are always arranged through the British Embassy or Legation. Court dress is worn in Russia, even though the reception itself is perfectly informal, but, as court dress for a bishop consists in being robed as for Easter services, in red chimere, etc., there was no difficulty in providing it even for one who has to carry everything in a couple of bags, and for months at a time. Tsarskoe Selo--"The Tsar's village," the words mean--is a little over half an hour by rail from Petrograd, and I was instructed to start from the Imperial Station in Petrograd, and there walked over rich carpets, through saluting soldiers, to the imperial train, most beautifully and comfortably arranged with smoking, writing, and reading compartments. Upon arrival at Tsarskoe Selo imperial carriages are always waiting for those expected, with coachman and footman on the box, wearing bright scarlet cloaks edged with white fur and very smart cocked hats of red and gold. It was a typical Russian wintry day with a tremendous blizzard blowing, and blinding snow falling. Sentries were stationed at intervals through the streets of the village, saluting all the imperial carriages as they went by, although no occupant could be seen; and having passed through it we entered the park and soon drew up at the door of the small palace where the Emperor always resides, and which, white itself, looked that day like a fairy palace rising up amid the snow.