It is certainly a fact that every woman, unless she dies young, must at some time or other grow old. It is equally indisputable that, however much she may try to avoid frivolities and luxuries, she must occasionally order a new dress. Do you see what I mean? Well, this was the disagreeable task that I had to carry out last year in Petrograd.

Bon gré, mal gré, I went to a dressmaker whose exceptional conditions rather won my sympathies. She used to be a woman of our own circle—an ardent Slavophil, and naturally a great admirer of my brothers. Her agent made a terrible mess of her money, and one fine day she discovered that she was perfectly ruined, and turned into a pauper. Yet neither courage nor energy at any time forsook her. Her first idea was to give public concerts, as she certainly was a good amateur pianist. But unless you are a Rubinstein or a Safonoff, it is madness to expect at the present day to earn a living by concert playing. Yes, indeed, so far as money is concerned, it has generally happened lately that the musical artist has to part with it instead of earning anything.

Thus she gave up the idea of giving concerts, and, known as she was for her fashionable dresses, she was urged to start quite a new branch of livelihood at a dressmaking establishment. I decided to go to her with my own Russian material—an example of some of our peasant industries—and asked her to make me a costume—“a very nice and durable one,” I added.

“It is the first time,” said she, smilingly, “that I am asked to make a dress from this material, but with little bits of velvet here and there I may arrange something suitable,” she remarked, already absorbed by my useful suggestion.

“All right—all right,” interrupted I; “the little details I leave to your taste. I want, as I said, a nice dress, with large practical pockets, which would last my life-time. I also want you to come at the arranged day and hour punctually.” This was agreed upon. But I forgot, stupidly enough, to inquire about her terms. (So like me!) At the appointed date and hour she appeared with my costume. I liked her work and her taste—but, oh! her bill! It made my heart ache. . . . Still, I concealed my feelings, thanked her, and was going to write my cheque, when another parcel came and another bill. . . . The latter contained my three Russian pamphlets, “A Few Words,” printed in the prisons by the political prisoners. I hear the poor wretches rather like that occupation, thus gaining a little new light and a few extra kopeks. . . .

Curiously the two bills, that of my dressmaker and that of the prisoners, were almost identical. The dressmaker seemed exceedingly interested in the pamphlets, and she said:

“I hope they are going to our troops.”

“Well,” said I, “they are going to be sold if I find some purchasers.”

“Oh!” she exclaimed with joy, “you save me a great deal of trouble. 1 have promised to send some books to the Front. Nothing can answer my purpose better than these pamphlets, and I beg you to use all the money in my bill to cover the expenses connected with them.”

Thus I had my dress for nothing, together with the expenses of my book (“A Few Words”), paid by my dressmaker. I wager anything that the incident is quite exceptional.

The pamphlets contained, among other things, a description of a remarkable scientific invention by a talented Russian, M. Shilofsky. The model of this invention has been generously offered by him to the Imperial Institute here; and I have had the great pleasure of seeing numbers of English schoolboys and students examining it with real interest, while the inventor, with quite Russian goodnature, explained all the questions that were put to him. M. Shilofsky had also discovered how to prevent the rolling motion of a steamer, thus rendering it absolutely steady, in spite of  “swells” or rough seas. When it is remembered that the great Nelson could not resist the effect of that motion, one cannot help feeling extremely grateful for a practical invention, which will be hailed with joy by the millions that have to face the seas and its unceremonious ways.

Let me say in passing that I was delighted to see such good feeling displayed by the inventor, and such vivid interest shown by the public in this Russian contribution to scientific progress.

M. Shilofsky is not the only talented inventor in Russia. . . . There, as in England, we have our eagles with strong and mighty wings (I am told) amongst engineers of mines, railways, and shipbuilding.

Let these eagles use their powerful wings, in spite of the red-tapeism, which is always hostile to talents, and we shall have more industrial enterprises, more railways, and a greater wealth of minerals of every description, developed at home. . . . But where am I drifting? I have altogether deserted my kind dressmaker! What a shame! Better stop at once. . . .