"The second fault is drunkenness. How many families are driven to misery; how many crimes are committed only through alcohol? Neither I nor your village judges have the right to break into your homes and prevent you by law from spending your {174} time in drinking. We can only urge and beg you to give up that habit. But remember well: to come to a village meeting or to a tribunal in a state of intoxication is prohibited by law, and for this you may be severely punished. A new election of village judges has now to take place, and this new administration is subject to the control of your Zemski Natchalnik. I have often heard people say: 'He is a happy fellow now. He may drink as much as he likes, now that he is a judge.' For myself, I confidently expect that with the new administration there will be neither drunkenness nor bribery. Your new judges have to give an oath on the gospel. It is your duty to elect men who realise the importance of such an oath. The title of a village judge should command a respect of which every man ought to be proud. I hope that we shall live together in harmony, and that you will help me in my difficult task. Now let us thank God for granting us an Emperor so anxious to help us and to promote our well-being. Let us also pray the Almighty to enlighten us, and to guide us in our choice in the important duties we are now about to undertake." A Te Deum followed Mr. Novikoff's speech, then the election of the village judges, and the assemblage of peasants, thus rendered serious and thoughtful, presented an impressive scene. It was satisfactory to see with what intense interest the peasants followed these words of sober advice. Some years ago, I cannot exactly say when and where, I ventured to describe some of my own personal experiences connected with the same vital {175} question. I remember so well the details of the facts of which I then spoke, that I would like to repeat them even now. I was driving one evening from the Zarskoe Selo Station in Petrograd to my hotel, some distance away. Although it was the summer season the weather reminded one rather of October or November. It was cold, rainy and windy; under such circumstances one naturally begins dreaming of personal comfort, a warm room and a cup of hot tea. One becomes prosaic. It seemed to me as if my drive would never come to an end. Suddenly I heard a voice: "Madame," asked my young driver, "are you a Russian?" "Yes," answered I, "thank God, I am a Russian!" A few minutes later I heard the same voice say: "Madame, are you a Greek Orthodox?" I naturally repeated again: "Yes, thank God, I am a Greek Orthodox!" But my driver seemed to be inquisitive. "And do you often see the Tsar?" asked the boy. "No, unfortunately very seldom," answered I. But I was puzzled to know the cause of all these questions, I even forgot for a few minutes to dream about my cup of hot tea, and took up the dialogue myself.