NUNS AND CONVENTS. I7 1 



a Russian monastery carries the visitor back at once to 

 the Middle Ages, and no sooner were we inside the 

 irregular high wall that crowned the summit of the 

 knoll than our eyes were riveted on a scene worthy of 

 "The Hunchback of Notre Dame." 



A nun in black robes and black velvet helmet-shaped 

 head-dress was up in the open belfry of the church 

 ringing a clamorous peal of three bells, by means of 

 ropes manipulated in a curiously skillful manner, with 

 both hands and one foot. One of the bells was a regu- 

 lar " Big Ben," with a funereal boom that must have 

 been the terror of aerial demons for twenty miles 

 around; and in the task of putting them to flight this 

 bell was ably seconded by its lesser, but by no means 

 small brother, the middle bell of the peal. The little 

 bell joined in with a quickening " tinkle-tinkle-tinkle," 

 voicing its imperative mandates half a dozen times to 

 Big Ben's one, as though, in the work of routing the 

 enemy, it was determined not to be outdone by the 

 others. Lucifer himself would have stood no chance 

 against all three, and even had he braved the bells, a 

 glance at the weird-looking figure in the belfry would 

 have convinced him of the folly of bravado in the pres- 

 ence of so skillful and vigorous a holy Sister. 



The black figure against the blue summer sky, with 

 black-draped arms outstretched and one foot working 

 a treadle, the whole body bending and swaying in 

 muscular unison with the curious medley of the bells — 

 could that possibly be a woman ? A woman it was, 

 however — one of the older nuns ; and her performance 

 in this belfry was worth traveling half across Russia to 

 see. 



