282 THROUGH RUSSIA ON A MUSTANG. 



of malachite, millions on millions lavished on marble 

 and granite. 



The isvoshchic who drives you about the city is for- 

 ever removing his hat and crossing himself as the 

 drosky passes a church or a holy picture in a shrine. 

 The throngs of people in the streets ; merchants, 

 soldiers, sailors, peasants, clerks, truckmen, officers, 

 gentlemen, ladies, boys, nurse-maids, the whole het- 

 erogeneous population of a city, follow your coach- 

 man's example. Passing in and out of the churches 

 are never-ceasing streams of people going or coming 

 on errands of devotion. Before the principal shrines 

 on the street corners a throng is never absent. 



Hung up like a picture in one corner of your room 

 at the hotel, not always in St. Petersburg, but always 

 in the provinces, is a holy ikon, and if you are the 

 guest of a Russian family, uncorrupted with European 

 influence, a little ikon very likely will be fastened to 

 the head of your bed. In short, you have arrived in 

 Holy Russia ; Russia, the Orthodox ; Russia, the home 

 and the champion and defender of the " only true 

 Christian religion." 



As for you, whatever else you may' be, Catholic, 

 Protestant, Hebrew, Moslem, or nothing in particular, 

 you are, in the eyes of these holy people, whose gov- 

 ernment, after looking over its black list to make sure 

 that you are not an active champion of liberty or 

 enlightenment, has permitted you to cross the frontier, 

 a heretic. Since nobody troubles to reproach you, 

 however, nor to convert you from the errors of your 

 own religion, you can easily assume the attitude of a 

 non-belligerent, and set about fathoming, without bias 



