A dramatic exhibition of the resurrection is
given in every church in the empire on the
Saturday evening at twelve o'clock precisely. On
Easter Sunday there are kisses and congratulations,
eggs are handed about from hand to hand,
feasting is at its height, and the hospitals are
full by Tuesday or Wednesday.

There is a manufactory near St. Petersburg,
at which about two thousand hands used to be
employed. On a week previous to a certain
Easter Sunday, while confession was going on,
in order to take as little time from Mammon as
possible, the machinery was stopped in sections,
and the people were permitted to go in batches,
according to the nature of the work at which they
were employed. Weavers confessed together at
one time, spinners at another, and so on.
Connected with and adjoining these works was the
church where confession took place, and a
private passage led from the works to the
church by which the penitents passed into the
church; having confessed, they went into the
street by the main church entrance to go home.
Now, in Russia, all workpeople are strictly
searched by male and female searchers as they
pass out from their place of employment; but
in confessing season when these particular
workpeople went direct to the church, by the
private way, to confess a year's sins in the
lump, the right of search had never been
enforced. But on a certain day the director of
this factory received a hint concerning this
omission, and took his measures accordingly.
At eleven o'clock a large batch (four hundred
in all) of women, young and married, girls and
old wives, left their various posts, and took
their way across the yard, with demure and
penitent looks, to the private entrance, where
they were admitted as usual, filling the stairs
and passages. When all were inside, the bottom
door was bolted and guarded. Means of escape
being thus cut off, the front rank on approaching
the door of communication with the church,
found half a dozen searchers, backed by as many
policemen. The first two women searched were
stripped of a large quantity of valuable
material secreted under their clothes, in their
boots— in fact, wherever they could stow it.
Each had as great a weight of plunder as she
could possibly carry. The work of searching
went on, but the mass of women on the stairs
and in the passages got scent of the presence
of the searchers. The word was passed, a
peculiar sound was heard as of many persons
dressing and undressing, and in a few minutes
the women were all standing as innocent as
lambs, and as harmless as doves, up to their
knees in material, valued according to an after
computation at five hundred pounds sterling.

This had been going on for years. But let it
be remembered that the people are not taught
morality and honesty as part of their religion.

I will attempt to give an idea of what Holy
Russia can achieve in this line. Saint Nicholas,
or Nikoli, as he is termed in Russia, was "a
saint so clever," who, many years ago, lived on
the banks of Lake Ladago the Great. He was a
man reputed for his wonderful sanctity, austerity,
and wisdom. Many extraordinary cures had he
effected, which were ascribed by the simple
peasants to supernatural power. He belonged
to the real old uncorrupted Greek religion, such
as it was in the days of its purity; he flagellated
himself unmercifully for his deficiencies,
bemoaned the falling off of the primitive faith,
and prophesied dire calamities in consequence.
One of his favourite prophetic visions was the
downfal of the Ottoman empire, the total
destruction of all the Turks, the substitution of
Russia for those "dogs" in the East, in the
reign of a namesake of his own, a Nikoli, and
the simultaneous restoration of the pure old
faith. One day he was on a sloping bank of the
great lake, seated on a large boulder-stone,
talking and speaking words of wisdom to friends
who had come a long way to hear him, and at
the same time inwardly praying to be removed
to the capital, that he might have there a wider
field of duty, and give his counsel to the
emperor, who was at that time consolidating
Petersburg. At once the stone on which he sat
began to move, and, sliding gently down
towards the lake, carried him with it, in spite of
the exertions of his friends. On the lake the
stone swam like a duck, and set off, dead
against the wind, across the sea (the Ladago is
some sixty miles broad, and eighty long).
Nikoli waved a farewell to his astonished
friends, and calmly held his course. For six
weeks he sailed on, buffeting winds and waves,
not knowing whither he went. At length he
passed from the great lake into the Neva. But
he did not reach the capital. A ukase had gone
out against the arrival of any more big stones,
or monoliths, after that which Peter rides on, in
the Admiralty Plains. Nikoli's stone must
have known this, for when it came to a place
called Ishora, it turned into a small tributary,
and held on up the narrow river, dead
against the stream, for four good miles. Then
it stopped stone still at the village of
Colpino, where the saint was obliged to get
off and land. It so happened that just as
Nikoli came sailing up this small river, the
peasants had collected, and were dancing one of
their holiday dances. They saw the strange
sight of an old man sailing on a stone, and
thought they saw the Evil One. " Churt!
churt!" they cried, and ran off. One man,
however, who had more sense, cried out, " God
be with us! that is old Nikoli Nikoliovitch,
from the Ladago, the wise man." This
discriminating man took the poor exhausted mariner
in, and dried his feet, set bread before him, got
the samovar ready, and laid him on the peach
bed, doing all he could to revive his poor
weatherbeaten frame. But the saint's time was
come; he died in the arms of his kind
entertainer, prophesying many events, " which have
all come to pass," and having by this expedition
on the stone entitled himself to be
canonised and placed in the highest rank among
Greek saints. So, canonised he was; a picture
of him was made and encased under silver, with