w kopecks, a loaf of
bread, or some cast-off article of clothing. I saw a little child
timidly approach the gang, and, dropping a small coin into the hand of
one poor wretch, run back again into the crowd, weeping bitterly.
These prisoners are condemned to exile for three, four, or five
years--often for life. It requires from twelve to eighteen months of
weary travel, all the way on foot, through barren wastes and
inhospitable deserts, to enable them to reach their desolate place of
exile. Many of them fall sick on the way from fatigue and
privation--many die. Few ever live to return. In some instances the
whole term of exile is served out on the journey to and from Siberia.
On their arrival they are compelled to labor in the government mines
or on the public works. Occasionally the most skillful and industrious
are rewarded by appointments to positions of honor and trust, and
become in the course of time leading men.

[Illustration: PRISONERS FOR SIBERIA.]

In contemplating the dreary journey of these poor creatures--a journey
of some fifteen hundred or two thousand miles--I was insensibly
reminded of that touching little story of filial affection, "Elizabeth
of Siberia," a story drawn from nature, and known in all civilized
languages.

Not long after the departure of the Siberian prisoners, I witnessed,
in passing along one of the principal streets, a grand funeral
procession. The burial of the dead is a picturesque and interesting
ceremony in Moscow. A body of priests, dressed in black robes and
wearing long beards, take the lead in the funeral cortege, bearing in
their hands shrines and burning tapers. The hearse follows, drawn by
four horses. Black plumes wave from the heads of the horses, and
flowing black drapery covers their bodies and legs. Even their heads
are draped in black, nothing being perceptible but their eyes. The
coffin lies exposed on the top of the hearse, and is also similarly
draped. This combination of sombre plumage and drapery has a
singularly mournful appearance. Priests stand on steps attached to the
hearse holding images of the Savior over the coffin; others follow in
the rear, comforting the friends and relatives of the deceased. A
wild, monotonous chant is sung from time to time by the chief mourners
as the procession moves toward the burial-ground. The people cease
their occupations in the streets through which the funeral passes,
uncover their heads, and, bowing down before the ima