nance, broad in the protruding forehead
which narrowed to the point of his black beard, and being dressed as a
monk in a long, shabby, black robe I recognised at once he was one of
those fakirs we have all over Russia, one of those self-sacrificing bogus
"holy" men who wander from town to town obsessed by religious mania, full
of fictitious self-denial, yet collecting kopecks for charity.

Religion of all creeds has its esoteric phases, and our own Greek Church
is certainly not alone in its "cranks."

"Rajevski, this is the Starets, Gregory Novikh," said the General, who
was in uniform with the cross of St. Andrew at his throat.

I stood for a few seconds astounded. On being introduced to me, the
unkempt, uncleanly fellow crossed his arms over his chest, bowed, and
growled in a deep voice a word of benediction.

I expressed pleasure at meeting him, for all Russia was at the moment
ringing with the renown of the modest Siberian "saint" who could work
miracles. For the past month or so the name of "Grichka" had been upon
everyone's lips. The ignorant millions from the Volga to Vladivostok had
been told that a new saint had arisen in Russia; one possessed of Divine
influence; a man who lived such a clean and blameless life in imitation
of Christ that he was destined as the spiritual Guide and Protector of
Russia, and to eclipse even Saint Nicholas himself.

As one level-headed and educated I had always had my doubts concerning
all "holy" wanderers who meander across the steppes collecting alms.
Knowing much of the evil life lived in our Russian monasteries and
convents, and the warm welcome given to every charlatan who grows his
beard, forgets to wash, lifts his eyes heavenwards, and begs, I had, I
confess at the outset, but little faith in this new star in Holy Russia's
firmament now introduced to me by His Excellency the Minister of War.

"I have been speaking with the Starets concerning you," the Minister
said, as he turned in his padded chair, and flicked the ash from his
exquisite Bogdanoff cigarette. "I have detached you from my department to
become secretary to the Starets. Yours will be an enviable post, my dear
Feodor, I assure you. Russia is in her degeneration. The Starets has been
sent to us by Divine Providence to regenerate and reform her."

"But, your Excellency, I am very content in my present post--I----"

"I issued the decree from the Ministry this morning," he interrupted in
his fierce, blustering