cries of: "Father, kindly give us some kvass! Kindly give us some
hay!" or "Father, may I drink water after confession?" And the lay
brother would have to give out kvass or hay or to answer: "Address
yourself to the priest, my good woman, we have not the authority
to give permission." Another question would follow, "Where is the
priest then?" and the lay brother would have to explain where was
the priest's cell. With all this bustling activity, he yet had to
make time to go to service in the church, to serve in the part
devoted to the gentry, and to give full answers to the mass of
necessary and unnecessary questions which pilgrims of the educated
class are fond of showering about them. Watching them during the
course of twenty-four hours, I found it hard to imagine when these
black moving figures sat down and when they slept.

When, coming back from the evening service, I went to the hostel
in which a place had been assigned me, the monk in charge of the
sleeping quarters was standing in the doorway, and beside him, on
the steps, was a group of several men and women dressed like
townsfolk.

"Sir," said the monk, stopping me, "will you be so good as to allow
this young man to pass the night in your room? If you would do us
the favour! There are so many people and no place left--it is
really dreadful!"

And he indicated a short figure in a light overcoat and a straw
hat. I consented, and my chance companion followed me. Unlocking
the little padlock on my door, I was always, whether I wanted to
or not, obliged to look at the picture that hung on the doorpost
on a level with my face. This picture with the title, "A Meditation