Wessington Springs herald. (Wessington Springs, Aurora County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1891, 1883-11-30
In the Hsly Mountains.

In the KSly Mountains.
On the bank Of Che Donets River, in
u ~rrovln,c oil Kharkoff, there is a
nlsn, ch'Aky mountain, as white as
saoM' WI ose shape reminds the beholder
y. an e'1ormous temple, crowned with 2
plnnac 1e. Upon a slope on the side Of
.ie J fountain stands a convent whose
sur dng gilt domes rise above the ma
~ TIC old oak trees that surround it.
! ms IS the Convent of the Holy Noun
cams. 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-
Giles the convent was known as the n
.'beyond the frontier" Many Christian
hermits were murdered there by the
iartars. 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 Iartars, the convent became a 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 Gar the monks we're 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. elbow unlike these
men are to those who centuries ago dug
these catacombs, and with swords in
their hands fought against the Tartar
hordes," I said to myself. l gave a hint
of my thought to an intelligent monk
whose acquaintance 1 made.
''Don't do us injustice" he answered.
"Times are changed, and men are
changed, too; but we have high charac-
ters of our own. Follow me-"
He led me into the underground
church, where, during four centuries,
not a prayer was delivered nor a taper
burned. A shudder seized me when I
found myself in a dark, damp under
ground passage. The lower we descend
ed, the more sitting the air was. Finally
we entered the church, which was a 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 glorified, and men tried to
silence the voice of their n%ature,'
thought I. Suddenly 1 was startled by
a strange appearance. There slowly
approached us a figure clad in a 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 alayman, holy father
answered my guide.
':Layman! Why layman? 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 sinnersis heard. OLord, Lord!"
The schema-monk Frustrated himself
I'LL UiC 1OO tuu SOUUcu. w Z
left the church. My guide told me that
the schema-monk had lived in the cata-
combs for owe thirteen years.
We entered another underground
apartment. An iron door was seer at
the end of a passage.
'In that CELL" said my guide, "the
Hermit John lived for seventeen years.
He was born in 1895. From boyhood he
seemed to be a 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 q 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 a skeleton, and then he had
visions. Various saints, and ever
Christ, appeared to him, and comforted
him. There is a little hole leading from
his cell to the underground church. APP
plying his a 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"
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 crucifixion
hung on the wall, which was lighted by
an oil lamp.
When we emerged from the catacomba
we met a stout, handsome monk, with
two young women leaning on his arms.
Cor. N. Y. San.