The absurd falsehoods daily published for the amusement of the Russians, and the abuse of our nation, we can well afford to laugh at in England; but it is widely different to one standing alone in a foreign land, and among the enemies of one’s country. None but those who have been placed in such a position can have any idea of the grief and heartburning it causes, nor how very difficult it is to remain silent on hearing such expressions as, “There will be plenty of English blood shed this year, thank God!” “We must have some new hospitals built for the wounded when the British fleet is destroyed!” “Count Besborodku has made a present of cannon to the Emperor, to shoot those swine when they approach us!” “There won’t be many of the British that will ever return home again!” “The first victory we gain over those dogs of islanders,” &c. &c. Amid all their resentment and hatred towards the English, it was strange to remark how tenderly the French were treated, as if they were a people too insignificant and helpless to merit any other sentiment but that of the most profound pity and compassion, the victims of English policy, and as if they were merely a cat’s-paw to serve the turn of our government. The Russians expressed the greatest contempt for them in the light of antagonists: “We have beaten them before, and we will beat them again,” was a phrase a thousand times repeated, for they vauntingly boast of having defeated _la grande armée_ in 1812, and of having hunted the French out of their country as if they were sheep; but all Europe knows what truth there is in Russian history. The Russians expressed great friendship for Lord Aberdeen, and intense hatred of Lord Palmerston, whom they blamed as the prime mover of public affairs, and as the author indirectly of all their misfortunes. I may mention _en passant_ that the names of Napier and Palmerston inspired the lower classes with so great a terror, that the women used to frighten the children by saying that the English Admiral was coming! And among the common men, after exhausting all the opprobrious terms they could think of (and the Russian language is singularly rich in that respect), one would turn to the other and say, “You are an English dog!” Then followed a few more civilities, which they would finish by calling each other “Palmerston,” without having the remotest idea of what the word meant; but as the very climax of hatred and revenge, they would bawl out “Napier!” as if he were fifty times worse than Satan himself.