Phillipsburg herald. [volume] (Phillipsburg, Kan.) 1882-1905, 1883-11-22
In the Holy Mountains.

On the bank of the Donets River, IN
the Province of Khark0ff, there is 8
high, chalky mountain. as white as
snow, whose shape reminds the beholdeI
of an enormous temple, crowned with
pinnacle. Upon slope on the side of
the mountain stands a convent whose
shining gilt domes rise above the ma
iestic old oak trees that surround it.
This is the Convent of the Holy Noun
tains. 1t was established by Russian
monks in the twelfth century, when the
place was in the possession of the Tar
tarS. The monks lived in catacOmbs
connected by a subterranean passage
with the river. In the Russian chroni-
cles the convent was known as the one
'sbeyond the frontier" Many Christian
hermits were murdered there by the
Tartars. At length the holy fathers
determined to defend themselves. They
obtained cannon and other arms, and
repeatedly saved not only themselves,
but also many Russian prisoners, from
the TartarS. In the course of time,
when the Muscovite Cars conquered
the Tartars, the convent became sacred
asylum for all who were prosecuted by
the Cars authorities. Runaway peas
ants, Cossacks; and even rebellious
Boyards, found a safe abode there. By
order of the Car the monks were dis
persed, and the convent was abolished,
During the present century the convent
has been re-established, but the cata-
combs, left alone for four centuries
were quite forgotten until about twenty
years ago, when they were accidentally
discovered. They have since been
cleared.
On entering the convent I noticed
everywhere well-fed and well-dressed
monks idling about. ''How unlike these
men are to those who centuries ago dug
these catacombs, and with swords in
their hands fought against the Tartar
hordes, - said to myself. gave hint
of my thought to an intelligent monk
whose acquaintance made.
''Don't do us injustice, he answered.
''Times are changed, and men are
changed, too; but we have high charac-
tiers of our own. Follow me-"
He led me into the underground
church, where, during four centuries,
not prayer was delivered nor a taper
burned. A shudder seized me when I
found myself in dark, damp under
ground passage. The lower we descend
ed, the more sitting the air was. Finally
we entered the church, which was dark,
dripping vault. The severe faces of the
holy images seemed to tremble in the
weak light of the oil lamps that hung
before them. ''And here for centuries
God was glorifed, and men tried to
silence the voice of their nature, "
thought I. Suddenly I was startled by
a strange appearance. There slowly
| approached us a figure clad in wide,
dark cloak, ornamented with white
insignia-the skull and bones and white
crosses. 1t was a schema-mOnk.
''Who is here?" he asked in a hollow
voice.
ga monk and a layman, holy father, :"
answered my guide.
'Layman! Why 1ayman? Go and
pray that you may be received into the
convent. Hasten, for the ak is laid at
the root of the tree. An unquenchable
| fire is blazing, and the crashing of the
teeth of sinners is heard. OLord, Lord!"
The schema-monk Frustrated himself
on the earthen floor and sObbed. We
| left the church. My guide told me that
the schema-monk had lived in the cata-
combs for over thirteen years.
We entered another underground
apartment. An iron door was seen at
1 GuC Gnu VI q pdoSitAS'
| ''In that cell, f" said my guide, ''the
Hermit John lived for seventeen years.
! He was born in 1895. From boyhood he
seemed to be religious enthusiast, yet
! he STAYED in the world until his thirty
eighth year Then he entered the con-
vent, put letters upon himself, and be-
gan to mortify his flesh. The meanest
and hardest work he performed jOyfully.
He prayed to be permitted to shut him
self up in the catcombs, but the Prior
| submitted him to various trials for years.
At length, in 1860, he was blessed and
allowed to shut himself up in this cell.
A coffin with little straw in it was put
in the cell, and daily bread and water
were given to him. Here he remained
in the winter, without any stove. He
prayed day and night. Finally he
looked like skeleton, and then he had
visions. Various saints, and even
Christ, appeared to him, and cOmforted
him. There is little hole leading from
his cell to the underground church. APP
plying his ear to that hole, John used
to listen to the divine services in the
church. At last, in 1877, he died, and
was buried in the cell. F"
My guide opened the iron door, and
there in the floor I saw the black grave
of the hermit. Heavy letters lay on the
floor. A dark painting of the crucifxion
hung on the wall, which was lighted by
an oil lamp.
When we emerged from the catacombs
we met stout, handsome monk, with
two young women leaning on his arms.
Cor. N. 7. San.