wooden ring, the pegs, and the cross in the ice
are iridescent with thousands of colors. The cross and the dove
glitter so dazzlingly that it hurts the eyes to look at them.
Merciful God, how fine it is! A murmur of wonder and delight runs
through the crowd; the bells peal more loudly still, the day grows
brighter; the banners oscillate and move over the crowd as over the
waves. The procession, glittering with the settings of the ikons
and the vestments of the clergy, comes slowly down the road and
turns towards the Jordan. Hands are waved to the belfry for the
ringing to cease, and the blessing of the water begins. The priests
conduct the service slowly, deliberately, evidently trying to prolong
the ceremony and the joy of praying all gathered together. There
is perfect stillness.

But now they plunge the cross in, and the air echoes with an
extraordinary din. Guns are fired, the bells peal furiously, loud
exclamations of delight, shouts, and a rush to get the pegs. Seryozhka
listens to this uproar, sees thousands of eyes fixed upon him, and
the lazy fellow's soul is filled with a sense of glory and triumph.

THE SWEDISH MATCH

_(The Story of a Crime)_

I

ON the morning of October 6, 1885, a well-dressed young man presented
himself at the office of the police superintendent of the 2nd
division of the S. district, and announced that his employer, a
retired cornet of the guards, called Mark Ivanovitch Klyauzov, had
been murdered. The young man was pale and extremely agitated as he
made this announcement. His hands trembled and there was a look of
horror in his eyes.

"To whom have I the honour of speaking?" the superintendent asked
him.

"Psyekov, Klyauzov's steward. Agricultural and engineering expert."

The police superintendent, on reaching the spot with Psyekov and
the necessary witnesses, found the position as follows.

Masses of people were crowding about the lodge in which Klyauzov
lived. The news of the event had flown round the neighbourhood with
the rapidity of lightning, and, thanks to its being a holiday, the
people were flocking to the lodge from all the neighbouring villages.
There was a regular hubbub of talk. Pale and tearful faces were to
be seen here and there. The door into Klyauzov's bedroom was found
to be locked. The key was in the lock on the inside.

"Evidently the criminals made their way in by the window" Psyekov
observed, as they examined the door.

They went into the garden