The daily morning journal and courier., 1900-01-08
RUSSIA'S SACRED SHRINE.

It is z o'clock in the afternoon in
 Moscow, June IA, Russian time (June 26 everywhere else), but Russia's sun is
 more than two hours high and will peep
 over the horizon tomorrow morning
 before 8 o'clock. We are standing in
 the broadest street of the city near the .incomparable Kremlin and opposite gigantic gateway, under which nestles little chapel of colored marbles with blue pyramidal roof flecked with golden stars Every passer-by faces the chapel uncovers himself, and solemnly makes the sign of the cross several times. Even the passengers on the crowded
 double decked horse cars go through
 this strange ceremony Here comes gang of dusty laborers. Every one of them stops, and, lowing low toward the chapel, crosses himself again and again. There are some long-haired, long-gown- en priests of the Russian church, very intelligent, good-looking men too with clear complexions and kindly faces, kneeling on the marble steps with their faces pressed against the hard pave ment Every cab driver in his padded robe, which makes him fill the front
 seat entirely finds time to remove his squatty hat and touches his forehead chest and right and left shoulders. Just over there splendid carriage with
 prancing black stallions is halting, and a wealthy lady with a maid, steps out to kneel before the sacred shrine. Here close to us are merchants, coming from their pretty shops in the matchless glass arcade near by. They, too, without ex- ception, pay homage and make the sa- cred sign, and the poor peasants from afar, with black bread and onions in a cloth, with coarse clothing and straw shoes and stout walking stick which has helped them over a hundred versts-- they, of course, are filled with rapture, and prostrate themselves flat upon the pavement, kissing everything in reach in passionate adoration
 What is the meaning of all this?" we ask, and as we search eagerly but in vain, in the throng for some one who looks as though he could speaka word of some other language than Russian, our eyes rest on royal carriage, which we had overlooked. It was drawn by beautiful black horses, with liveried, headed attendants, who are taking from the carriage a blackened picture of the Blessed Virgin. This, then, must be the wonder working Mother of God" the most sacred picture in all Russia, before which the Czar prostrates himself before entering the Kremlin We open our German Baedeker and read that the picture is 250 years old, was brought from Mount Athos, and is covered with pearls and precious stones. It is taken in a royal carriage every day to the homes of the sick, where it works miracles and receives great sums of money. It has a gash, in one cheek, made long ago by Ttrtar sword but millions would now pladly give their lives to save the idol from such indgni- ty.
 We enter the chapel when the picture | has been set in place again, and buy | a tiny candle, which we set place along | side hundred others, filling the room l with a stifling odor. This, however, is | real perfume compared to the orthodox | forty-seven distinct smells of Moscow | We will not kneel, and We cannot stand | with a score kneeling behind us endeav- | bring to see the sacred ikon, so we back l out into the air, feeling the scorn re- fected from half hundred faces.- Zion's Herald