The gold leaf. [volume] (Henderson, N.C.) 1881-1911, 1891-03-26

of the season, pyramidal mass OF
thick pasty dough, spotted with a
kind of smallpox of currants and raisins,
which is to a Russian Easter what the
traditional plum pudding is to an En-.
glish Christmas.
Just as all was ready for our meal in
came the postmaster's pretty daughter in
all the splendor Of her holiday clothes
embroidered blue jacket and crimson
skirt, striped stockings, and a string of
colored beads round her neck. Her late
appearance was fully explained by the
huge basket Of Easter eggs, gay with all
the hues of the rainbow, which she car.
ried in her hand.
Behind Miss Praskovia came another
girl about her own age, who was pre-
sented to me as her foster sister, and
who seemed to be treated with great re-
spect by the whole family, being Jas
afterward learned) the only daughter OF
a prosperous corn dealer in the town,
who was quite a capitalist in the eyes of
these simple folks. Her face impressed
me only by its extreme beauty, but the
moment I heard her voice recognized
the girl whose talk with her lover had
overheard half an hour before.
But amid all the merriment Of our gay
party Maria Oisipovna (Mary, daughter
Of Joseph) was strangely sad and silent.
and her sadness was fully explained
when she at length said pensively:
"Ah! il only my poor brother were
here among US, how happy we should
be! Perhaps he's not dead after all; it
may have been only report. And if he
ever did como back, surely my father
couldn't be 80 cruel as to drive him out
again!"
The honest postmaster answered only
with shrug Of his broad shoulders DE
ing evidently skeptica1 of any kind deed
on the part Of her father, Oisip Mss1off,
who had the name of being the most
hard listed and hard hearted old fellow
in the whole DISTRICT, and limited to us
that we must not sit too long over our
supper, as we would have to be at tho
church in good time for the opening of
the night service.
An hour later We were in the church,
which was filed to overflowing, even
the romantic old graybeards and totter-
ing grandams of the community being
visible amid the crowd by scores, proba-
bly, for the first time since the previous
Easter. The whole scene was certainly
a strange contrast to my last Easter
service in Russia, which had been cele-
brated not in an obscure provincial
church, but in the great Isaac cathedral
at st. Petersburg. In a moment I re-
called the whole ceremonial-tle massed
thousands of assembled worshipers amid
the vast granite columns Of the splendid
cathedral; the plaintive hymn dying
away in cadence Of mournful sweetness
among the mighty arches overhead; the
gorgeous robes and long silky hair of the
priests in the center, grouped around the
coffin that typified the death and burial
of our Lord; the tone of wondering dis
may in which the chief priest exclaimed,
He is not here!' rs he turned away and
left the cilurc'l with his comrades, as if
to seek the sacred body elsewhere-the
sudden and triumphant return Of the
procession through the opposite gate,
with heads uplifted and banners dis
played and a joyous shout of 'Christ is
risen," and then the sea of light that
surged up through the shadowy throng
as thousands of tapers were lighted at
once, while the choir pealed forth the
grand resurrection anthem, and ON every
side was heard the greeting which was
echoing at that instant throughout the
length aud breadth of Russia. Christ is
risen! He is risen, indeedy'
But here there were no pomp and
splendor, no bronzed gates or marble
cornices or pillars Of polished granite.
All was rude and simple; plain timber,
plain stone. a--. the only ornament
worth naming was massive silver cru
cifix above the altar. purchased with the
offerings Of the pious Cossacks of 1912
out of the spoils won by them from the
retreating armies of Napoleon.
Just at that moment, however, 1 made
a discovery which put everything else