One day we went to see a bird Exhibition at the Manège and were present at a horrible cock-fight—a most disgusting sight! White and red cocks were taken out of their narrow cages and settled on a small estrade covered with sand and surrounded by a railing. The combat began, the winged champions struck against one another, with bristled feathers which flew about on all sides, croaking piercingly all the time. By refinement of cruelty they had steel spurs fastened on their legs. The enraged birds picked off each others’ skins by morsels, and long streams of blood spread on the sand. The white cock soon became purple-coloured; his red antagonist after having plucked out both his eyes, won the battle. I was boiling all over with indignation, but the cruel audience exhausted itself in frantic applause, admiring this miserable sport. The ganders’ fight was not a less sickening spectacle. The males with wings outspread, prepared to battle, but only in the presence of their better-halves, who ran after their “pachas” gabbling loudly. I regretted still more to have accepted an invitation to be present at a wolf hunting on the race ground. The poor animals were brought on the arena in big wooden boxes. Exposed to the light of day and scared by the crowds of noisy spectators, the unfortunate wolves had scarcely the time to make two or three limping steps, both their hind legs being tied fast together, when a pack of starving hounds rushed upon them and tore them to pieces. It was a shame, a crying shame! Oh, how barbarous mankind is, I thought. The Terrorists are continuing their work. It’s getting positively dreadful, everyone’s nerves are set on edge. Many rumours are circulating in St. Petersburg. The story goes now that the late Tzar Alexander II., proceeds slowly every night from the Winter Palace to the Kazan Cathedral, where he appears to the people. One of the chief rioters profited by this report, and one evening, during vespers, the Emperor’s ghost made its usual appearance, pronouncing in a loud voice the following words: “Warn my son that I am waiting for him.” But hardly had the admirably disguised sham-Emperor finished his public address, when the police laid hands upon him. Moscow is now the rallying place of the anarchists. A band of malefactors had just been caught setting themselves upon undermining one of the theatres which was being built in the enclosure of the future French Exhibition on the “Khodinka Field,” a few paces from the Imperial pavilion which will be inaugurated in the month of May. By a lucky chance a factory where imitation oranges stuffed with dynamite were being made, was also discovered. The terrorists disguised as errand boys were to throw this murderous fruit into the midst of assemblages in order to produce a panic. I am greatly alarmed by all this!