the clock struck twelve, the deep-toned bell on "Ivan the
Great" began to toll, and in answer to this signal all the bells in
Moscow suddenly sent forth a merry peal. Each bell--and their name is
legion--seemed frantically desirous of drowning its neighbour's voice,
the solemn boom of the great one overhead mingling curiously with the
sharp, fussy "ting-a-ting-ting" of diminutive rivals. If demons dwell
in Moscow and dislike bell-ringing, as is generally supposed, then
there must have been at that moment a general stampede of the powers of
darkness such as is described by Milton in his poem on the Nativity, and
as if this deafening din were not enough, big guns were fired in rapid
succession from a battery of artillery close at hand! The noise seemed
to stimulate the religious enthusiasm, and the general excitement had
a wonderful effect on a Russian friend who accompanied me. When in his
normal condition that gentleman was a quiet, undemonstrative person,
devoted to science, an ardent adherent of Western civilisation in
general and of Darwinism in particular, and a thorough sceptic with
regard to all forms of religious belief; but the influence of the
surroundings was too much for his philosophical equanimity. For a moment
his orthodox Muscovite soul awoke from its sceptical, cosmopolitan
lethargy. After crossing himself repeatedly--an act of devotion which I
had never before seen him perform--he grasped my arm, and, pointing to
the crowd, said in an exultant tone of voice, "Look there! There is a
sight that you can see nowhere but in the 'White-stone City.'* Are not
the Russians a religious people?"

*Belokamenny, meaning "of white stone," is one of the
popular names of Moscow.

To this unexpected question I gave a monosyllabic assent, and refrained
from disturbing my friend's new-born enthusiasm by any discordant note;
but I must confess that this sudden outburst of deafening noise and
the dazzling light aroused in my heretical breast feelings of a warlike
rather than a religious kind. For a moment I could imagine myself in
ancient Moscow, and could fancy the people being called out to repel a
Tartar horde already thundering at the gates!

The service lasted two or three hours, and terminated with the curious
ceremony of blessing the Easter cakes, which were ranged--each one with
a lighted taper stuck in it--in long rows outside of the cathedral. A
not less curious custom practised at this season is that