We were once staying at the house of a provincial governor, and had many opportunities of hearing and knowing what was going on. The police-master was a colonel in rank; the pay that he received from the government was not _forty pounds per annum_, yet he kept a carriage, four horses, two footmen, and a coachman; his wife was always extravagantly dressed; she had two or three children, and of course a maid and a cook, added to which she paid a visit every season to the capital. On my expressing wonder as to what miracle enabled him to support his family in such luxury, when it was well known to everybody that he had no estates and nothing besides his pay, I was told a little anecdote of him that deserves to be recorded, if it be only to show to British tradesmen that their brethren in Russia have a worse incubus than that of _taxes_ weighing on their hearts. On one occasion the Colonel was going to St. Petersburg, but he had not a ruble in his purse, and how to find the money to defray the expenses of the journey was a question. He was not long in solving it, for he hit upon the following plan. There happened to be a rich iron-merchant in the town; he called on him and ordered an immense number of poods of iron to be supplied for the use of the government. To what earthly use could a police-master put all this iron? The poor merchant knew very well that iron was not the metal he wanted, and was glad to compromise the affair by begging his acceptance of a good round sum of silver rubles instead. As for the poods of iron, they peaceably continued to repose in the store, and our “_brave homme_” went and enjoyed himself very much in the capital. Scores of similar anecdotes have fallen under my knowledge in every province in which I have resided. It was no longer an enigma to me in what way a police-master’s carriage and horses were paid for. I remember going with a friend to the Persian shop in the Galitzin Gallery in Moscow. Whilst we were there a servant came in and ordered several silk dresses of the kind called canaouse to be sent to the house of the police-master. Never shall I forget the rueful look of the poor Persian as he gave them into the man’s hand, for he well knew that payment was out of the question: he might send in the bill, which would be laid on the table and postponed _sine die_, but he could not refuse to send the dresses for fear of the consequences, as very likely some pretext would soon be found for ordering his shop to be shut up.