"Everybody rides in a Russian city in winter--at least everybody who claims to have much respect for himself; and in fact riding is so cheap that it must be a very shallow purse that cannot afford it. For a drive of a mile or less you pay eight or ten copecks (ten copecks equal eight cents), and you can ride a couple of miles for fifteen copecks, and sometimes for ten. By the hour you pay forty or fifty copecks; and if you make a bargain you can have the vehicle all to yourself a whole day for a dollar and a half, and sometimes less. They go very fast; and if your time is limited, and you want to see a good deal in a little while, it is the best kind of economy to hire an isvoshchik to take you about." We left our friends on the way to the hotel when we wandered off to hear what Frank had to say about the droskies and their drivers. The ride along the streets was full of interest to the youths, to whom it was all new; but it was less so to Doctor Bronson, who had been in St. Petersburg before. They drove up the Vosnesenski Prospect, a broad avenue which carried them past the Church of the Holy Trinity, one of the interesting churches out of the many in the city, and then by a cross street passed into the Nevski Prospect, which may be called the Broadway of the Russian capital. We shall hear more of the Nevski Prospect later on. At the hotel they surrendered their passports to the clerk as soon as they had selected their rooms; the Doctor told the youths they would not again see those important documents until they had settled their bill and prepared to leave. Frank and Fred were surprised at this announcement, and the Doctor explained: "The passports must go at once to the Central Bureau of the Police, and we shall be registered as stopping in this hotel. When the register has been made the passports will be returned to the hotel and locked up in the manager's safe, according to the custom of the country." "Why doesn't he give them back to us instead of locking them in the safe?" one of the youths inquired. "It has long been the custom for the house-owner to keep the passport of any one lodging with him, as he is in a certain sense responsible for his conduct. Besides, it enables him to be sure that nobody leaves without paying his bill, for the simple reason that he can't get away. When we are ready to go we must give a few hours' notice; the passports will be sent to the police-office again, with a statement as to our destination; after we have paid our bills and are ready to go, the passports will be handed to us along with the receipt for our money." "That makes hotel-keeping a great deal more certain than it is in American cities, does it not?" said Fred. "And you never hear in Russia of a man running away from a hotel where he has contracted a large bill, and leaving nothing but a trunk filled with straw and stove-wood as security, do you?" Frank inquired.