March 15th.

THERE is nothing to record about the last few days
of my visit, fully occupied as they were with the
collection and packing of printed material and
preparations for departure. I left with the two
Americans, Messrs. Bullitt and Steffens, who had
come to Moscow some days previously, and trav-
elled up in the train with Bill Shatov, the Com-
mandant of Petrograd, who is not a Bolshevik but
a fervent admirer of Prince Kropotkin, for the dis-
tribution of whose works in Russia he has probably
done as much as any man. Shatov was an emigre
in New York, returned to Russia, brought law and
order into the chaos of the Petrograd-Moscow rail-
way, never lost a chance of doing a good turn to an
American, and with his level-headedness and prac-
tical sense became one of the hardest worked serv-
ants of the Soviet, although, as he said, the mo-

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