leaving St. Petersburg, and so much since, that our curiosity was keenly
excited; and thus, though too well seasoned by experience to worry
unnecessarily, the continuance of the fog began to disgust us. We shall
creep along as yesterday, said we, and have nothing of Valaam but the
sound of its bells. The air was intensely raw; the sun had disappeared,
and the bearded peasants again slept, with open mouths, on the deck.

Saints Sergius and Herrmann, however, were not indifferent either to
them or to us. About the middle of the afternoon we suddenly and
unexpectedly sailed out of the fog, passing, in the distance of a ship's
length, in to a clear atmosphere, with a far, sharp horizon! The
nuisance of the lake lay behind us, a steep, opaque, white wall. Before
us, rising in bold cliffs from the water and dark with pines, were the
islands of Valaam. Off went hats and caps, and the crowd on deck bent
reverently towards the consecrated shores. As we drew near, the granite
fronts of the separate isles detached themselves from the plane in which
they were blended, and thrust boldly out between the dividing inlets of
blue water; the lighter green of birches and maples mingled with the
sombre woods of coniferæ; but the picture, with all its varied features,
was silent and lonely. No sail shone over the lake, no boat was hauled
up between the tumbled masses of rock, no fisher's hut sat in the
sheltered coves,--only, at the highest point of the cliff, a huge wooden
cross gleamed white against the trees.

As we drew around to the northern shore, point came out behind point,
all equally bold with rock, dark with pines, and destitute of any sign
of habitation. We were looking forward, over the nearest headland, when,
all at once, a sharp glitter, through the tops of the pines, struck our
eyes. A few more turns of the paddles, and a bulging dome of gold
flashed splendidly in the sun! Our voyage, thus far, had been one of