A dinner-party in Russia differs little from our own, excepting that _all the dishes_ are handed round, which is much more pleasant than the stiff formality of the joints being placed on the table: the lady and gentleman of the house are thus at leisure to enter into conversation with the guests, and can attend to the minor _politesses_ requisite. I was once at a large dinner-party in Moscow, and was surprised to remark that the host and hostess did not take their seat at all at the table, but walked about chatting first to one, then to another, recommending this wine or that dish to the attention of their assembled friends. I found that it was formerly a very general custom, but has now much fallen into disuse; it had its origin doubtless in the anxious wish to perform thoroughly the duties of hospitality, for which the Russians are justly celebrated. There is one custom that might well be entirely abolished. Each person washes his mouth out after dinner, and, after having well rinsed it, empties its contents into the finger-glass: it certainly is not pleasant to see a whole party thus employed. Immediately after coffee the guests depart; they do not, as with us, remain the whole evening. This is a good arrangement, as it gives the lady the opportunity of going to the opera, or to a friend’s house, as she pleases. There is little conversation worth remembering at a Russian dinner, efforts at making those antediluvian solecisms called puns, or endeavouring to say bons mots, repeating the last anecdote, real or invented, of the Emperor, the Empress, or some fortieth cousin of the imperial family, news as to who has obtained the cross of St. Anne, or that of Vladimir, or of some other order of knighthood which the Russians are ready to sell their souls to obtain, some great honour done to one of the party by his Majesty’s having looked at him, &c., flirtation, and paying personal compliments, are the staple of their “feast of reason.” We have often remarked with astonishment the excessive want of general information among the gentlemen; many of them seemed to know nothing at all beyond the frontiers of the empire. Knowledge is decidedly at a discount. Their showy exterior, their brilliant accomplishments of music and dancing, their fluency in speaking so many foreign languages, are apt to strike foreigners with surprise, and they give them credit for knowing all those _solid_ acquirements which with us are the _sine quâ non_ of a good education. An attempt to converse on any scientific subject would astonish every one, for it would soon show how _very little_ real knowledge they possess. There is also another peculiar trait in the national character. A Russian will frequently pretend an intimate acquaintance with a subject of which he is perfectly ignorant, yet so well will he conceal this fact, that he will keep up the deception for an incredible time, when all at once he will ask some extraordinarily