and wherever in
all his Empire a beautiful voice is found, the boy is brought to St.
Petersburg and educated by the State to enter the Emperor's choir.
When we entered the church the service had been in progress for five
hours. That immense church was packed to suffocation. In the Greek
church every one stands, no matter how long the service. In fact, you
cannot sit down unless you sit on the floor, for there are no seats.

By degrees we worked our way towards the space reserved for the
Diplomatic Corps, where we were invited to enter. Our wraps were taken
and chairs were given to us. We found ourselves on the platform with
the priest, just back of the choir. What heavenly voices! What
wonderful voices! The bass holds on to the last note, and the rumble
and echo of it rolls through those vaulted domes like the tones of an
organ. The long-haired priest, too, had a wonderful resonant voice for
intoning. He passed directly by us in his gorgeous cloth of gold
vestments, as he went out.

The instant he had finished, the little choir boys began to pinch each
other and thrust their tapers in each other's faces, and behaved quite
like ordinary boys. The great crowd scattered and huge ladders were
brought in to put out the hundreds of candles in the enormous
chandeliers. Religion was over, and the world began again.

The other art which is maintained at the government expense is the
ballet. We went several times, and it was very gorgeous. It is all
pantomime--not a word is spoken--but so well done that one does not
tire of it.

Every one sympathized so with us because we could not see the ceremony
of the Blessing of the Waters of the Neva, and our ambassador
apologized for not being able to arrange it, and we said, "Not at
all," and "Pray, do not mention it," at the same time secretly hoping
that our Russian friends, who were putting forth strenuous efforts on
our behalf, would be able to manage it.

On the morning of the 18th of January a note came from a Russian
officer who was on duty at the Winter Palace, saying that Baron
Elsner, the Secretary of the Prefect of Police, would call for us with
his carriage at ten o'clock, and we would be conducted to the private
space reserved just in front of the Winter Palace, where the best view
of everything could be obtained. My companion and I fell into each
other's arms in wild delight, for it had been most difficult to
manage, and we had not been sure until that very moment.