ries, the staple
industry of the country, and next come leather tanneries, worked leather,
machinery, spirits, grain and tobacco. Wax candles are manufactured in
huge quantities, and in the monastery there is a very ancient
printing-press for religious books.

Peter the Great erected a fortress here in a most commanding spot. It is
said to contain up-to-date guns. A special pass has to be obtained from
the military authorities to be allowed to enter it, not so much because
it is used as an arsenal, but because from the high tower a most
excellent panoramic view is obtained of the city, the neighbourhood, and
the course of the river down below.

But Kiev is famous above all for its monastery, the Kievo-Petcherskaya,
near which the two catacombs of St. Theodosius and St. Antony attract
over three hundred thousand pilgrims every year. The first catacomb
contains forty-five bodies of saints, the other eighty and the revered
remains are stored in plain wood or silver-mounted coffins, duly labelled
with adequate inscriptions. The huge monastery itself bears the
appearance of great wealth, and has special accommodation for pilgrims.
As many as 200,000 pilgrims are said to receive board and lodging yearly
in the monastery. These are naturally pilgrims of the lower classes.

Enormous riches in solid gold, silver and jewellery are stored in the
monastery and are daily increased by devout gifts.

But let us visit the catacombs.

The spare-looking, long-haired and bearded priests at the entrance of the
catacomb present to each pilgrim, as a memento, a useful and much valued
wax candle, which one lights and carries in one's hand down the steep and
slippery steps of the subterranean passages. All along, the procession
halts before mummified and most unattractive bodies, a buzzing of prayers
being raised by the pilgrims when the identity of each saint is explained
by the priest conducting the party. The more devout people stoop over the
bodies and kiss them fervently all over, voluntarily and gladly
disbursing in return for the privilege all such small cash as may lie
idle in their pockets.

Down and down the crowd goes through the long winding, cold, damp,
rancid-smelling passages, devoid of the remotest gleam of ventilation,
and where one breathes air so thick and foul that it sticks to one's
clothes and furs one's tongue, throat and lungs for several hours after
one has emerged from the catacombs into fresh air again. Yet the