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, March 2.

DREARY time to travel, but still drearier to stay at home, if home be Petersburg. The weather has been and still is in a transition state,—mud and melting snow in the streets; the sun persistently hiding his face; short, dark, rainy days alternating with gray, snowy ones.

The Russians call this season the "Black Winter," and it sometimes lasts until the middle of April. What a prospect! But we shall be far away before then.

Tom could not make up his mind to leave Russia without seeing Moscow; in fact, we all wanted to come here, although we were told it would not look its best at this dull season. Alice proposed to make one of the party, but Nicolas could not join us, and Tom almost refused to go when he found there would be four ladies in his sole charge. In vain we told him that we could all take care of ourselves. He replied that they would think he was a Turk travelling with his harem; though, when questioned, he was quite vague in his mind as to who "they" meant.

At last some one suggested that George should be