They are generally representations of the Madonna and Child in
repousse-work of silver, silvered copper, or gilt. Often the face and
hands of the Madonna are painted on panel; in that case the portrait
rises from metal shoulders, and the head is surrounded by metal hair.
The painting is always of the stiff Byzantine school, following an
ancient model, for any other style would be considered irreverent, and
nothing can exceed the strange effect produced by these long-eyed,
small-mouthed, rigid, sourly sweet virgin faces coming out from their
silver-gilt necks, while below, painted taper fingers of unearthly
length encircle a silver Child, who in His turn has a countenance of
panel, often all out of drawing, but hauntingly sweet. These curious
pictures have great dignity. The churches have no seats. I generally
took my stand in one of the pew-like stalls which project from the wall,
and here, unobserved, I could watch the people coming in and kissing the
icons. This adoration, commemoration, reverence, or whatever the proper
word for it may be, is much more conspicuous in the Greek places of
worship than it is in Roman Catholic churches. Those who come in make
the round of the walls, kissing every picture, and they do it fervently,
not formally. The service is chanted by the priests very rapidly in a
peculiar kind of intoning. The Corfu priests did not look as if they
were learned men, but their faces have a natural and humane expression
which is agreeable. In the street, with their flowing robes, long hair
and beards, and high black caps, they are striking figures. The parish
priest must be a married man, and he does not live apart from his
people, but closely mingles with them upon all occasions. He is the
papas, or pope, as it is translated, and a lover of Tourguenieff who
meets a pope for the first time at Corfu is haunted anew by those
masterpieces of the great Russian--the village tales across whose pages
the pope and the popess come and go, and seem, to American readers, such
strange figures.

[Illustration: THE TOMB OF MENEKRATES]

In the suburb of Castrades is the oldest church of the island. It is
dedicated to St. Jason, the kinsman of St. Paul. St. Jason's appeared to
be deserted. Here, as elsewhere, it is not the church most interesting
from the historical point of view which is the favorite of the people,
or which they find, apparently, the most friendly. But when I paid my
visit, there were so many vines an