brutality and barbarism, and for the following reason: in every
apartment of a Russian house there is a small picture of the Virgin
stuck up in a corner, just below the ceiling--the hat is taken off
out of respect to her.

Quick glances of intelligence were exchanged by the three
gentlemen. I had stumbled upon their shibboleth, and proclaimed
myself an Ephraimite, and not of Gilead. I have no doubt that up
to that moment they had considered me as one of themselves--a
member, and perhaps a priest, of their own ancient, grand, and
imposing religion, for such it is, I must confess--an error into
which it was natural that they should fall. What motives could a
Protestant have for intruding upon their privacy? What interest
could he take in inspecting the economy of their establishment? So
far, however, from relaxing in their attention after this
discovery, their politeness visibly increased, though, perhaps, a
scrutinizing observer might have detected a shade of less
cordiality in their manner.

Rector.--Beneath the ceiling in every apartment? I think I
understood you so. How delightful--how truly interesting; a
picture of the BLESSED Virgin beneath the ceiling in every
apartment of a Russian house! Truly, this intelligence is as
unexpected as it is delightful. I shall from this moment entertain
a much higher opinion of the Russians than hitherto--most truly an
example worthy of imitation. I wish sincerely that it was our own
practice to place an IMAGE of the BLESSED Virgin beneath the
ceiling in every corner of our houses. What say you, our professor
of humanity? What say you to the information so obligingly
communicated to us by this excellent gentleman?