e gave the whole of the heights
where the catacombs are situated to the brethren, and in 1062 a large
new monastery, surrounded by a stockade, was erected on the spot where
the Cathedral of the Assumption now stands. Thus was monastic life
introduced into Russia.

The venerated monastery shared all the vicissitudes of the "Mother of
all Russian Cities" in the wars of the Grand Princes and the incursions
of external enemies, such as Poles and Tatars. But after each disaster
it waxed greater and more flourishing. Restored, after a disastrous fire
in 1718, by the zeal of Peter the Great and his successors, enriched by
the gifts of all classes, the Lavra now consists of six monasteries,--
like a university of colleges,--four situated within the inclosure,
while two are at a distance of several versts, and serve as retreats and
as places of burial for the brethren. The catacombs, abandoned as
residences on the construction of the cells above ground, have not
escaped disasters by caving in. Drains to carry off the percolating
water, and stone arches to support the soil, have been constructed, and
a flourishing orchard has been planted above them to aid in holding the
soil together. Earthquakes in the thirteenth and sixteenth centuries
permanently closed many of them, and when the Tatars attacked the town,
in the thirteenth century, the monks boarded up all the niches and
filled in the entrances with earth. Some of these boards were removed
about a hundred years ago; some are still in place. The original extent
of the caves cannot now be determined.

The entrance to the near catacombs of St. Antony is through a long
wooden gallery supported on stone posts, at a sharp slope, as they are
situated twenty-four fathoms below the level of the cathedral, and
twenty-two fathoms above the level of the Dnyepr.

A fat merchant, with glowing black eyes and flowing, crisp, black beard,
his tall, wrinkled boots barely visible beneath his long, full-skirted
coat of dark blue cloth, hooked closely across his breast, descended the
gallery with us. Roused to curiosity, probably, by our foreign tongue,
he inquired, on the chance of our understanding Russian, whence we came.

I had already arrived at the conclusion that the people at Kieff,
especially the monks and any one who breathed the atmosphere within
their walls, were of an enterprising, inquisitive disposition. My last
encounter had been with the brother detailed, for his good looks an