Heber, somewhat dazzled, as was natural, by the gorgeous taste of the Muscovites, seems to have been highly gratified by the reception which he and his fellow-traveller experienced at the ancient capital of the empire: “The eastern retinues and luxuries,” says he, “which one meets with here are almost beyond belief. There are few English countesses have so many pearls in their possession as I have seen in the streets in the cap of a merchant’s wife. At a ball in the ancient costume, which was given by M. Nedilensky (secretary of state to the late empress, whose family we have found the most agreeable in Moscow), the ladies all wore caps entirely of pearls, and the blaze of diamonds on their _saraphaus_ (the ancient Russian tunic) would have outshone, I think, St. James’s. The pearl bonnet is not a becoming dress, as it makes its wearer look very pale, a fault which some ladies had evidently been endeavouring to obviate.” The heads which were thus gaudily garnished on the outside were generally exceedingly empty, as may safely be inferred from the degree of information possessed by their fathers, husbands, and brothers; so that the comparison with English ladies, in whom beauty and intelligence usually go hand in hand, could, I imagine, be carried no further. Upon leaving Moscow about the middle of March, our traveller proceeded southward through the Ukraine, the country of the Cossacks, at Charkof, the capital of which, a university had recently been established. The professors of this establishment, who were all very handsomely paid, presented a motley assemblage of Russians, Germans, and Frenchmen, nearly every individual of which was big with some new scheme of teaching or college government; but this ludicrous appearance would wear off in time, while the benefit conferred on the people would be extensive and permanent. From hence they hurried on, for they were still rapid in their motions, to Taganroy, or the “Cape of the Teakettle,” so called from the form of the rock on which the fortress stands; and from thence to Nakitchivan on the Don. “This town,” says Heber, “is a singular mixture of Cossack houses and the black felt tents of the Kalmucs, all fishermen, and with their habitations almost thrust into the river. From the windows of the public-house where I am writing, the view is very singular and pleasing. The moon is risen, and throws a broad glare of light over the Don, which is here so widely overflowed that the opposite bank is scarcely visible; the foreground is a steep limestone hill covered with cottages and circular tents; and we hear on every side the mingled characteristic sounds of the singing of the boatmen on the river, the barking of the large ferocious Kalmuc dogs, which in all these countries are suffered to prowl about during the night, blended with the low monotonous chant of the Cossack women, who are enjoying the fine evening, and dancing in a large circle in the streets.”