sheep before them. The tents of these
nomads they committed to the flames. Their flocks and herds were
seized, with a great amount of booty, and many Russian captives were
liberated. The Tartars fled to fastnesses whence they could not be
pursued. Some Turks being taken with the horde, Ivan sent them with
rich presents to the sultan, stating that he did not make war against
Turkey, only against the robbers of Tauride. The Russian troops
returned from this triumphant expedition, by ascending the waters of
the Dnieper. All Russia was filled with rejoicing, while the churches
resounded with "Te Deums."

And now domestic griefs came to darken the palace of Ivan. For
thirteen years he had enjoyed all the happiness which conjugal love
can confer. Anastasia was still in the brilliance of youth and beauty,
when she was attacked by dangerous sickness. As she was lying upon her
couch, helpless and burning with fever, the cry of fire was heard. The
day was excessively hot; the windows of the palace all open, and a
drouth of several weeks made every thing dry as tinder. The
conflagration commenced in an adjoining street, and, in a moment,
volumes of flame and smoke were swept by the wind, enveloping the
Kremlin, and showering upon it and into it, innumerable flakes of
fire. The queen was thrown into a paroxysm of terror; the attendants
hastily placed her upon a litter and bore her, almost suffocated,
through the blazing streets out of the city, to the village of
Kolomensk. The emperor then returned to assist in arresting the
conflagration. He exposed himself like a common laborer, inspiring
others with intrepidity by mounting ladders, carrying water and
opposing the flames in the most dangerous positions. The conflagration
proved awful in its ravages, many of the inhabitants perishing in the
flames.

This calamitous event was more than the feeble frame of Anastasia
could endure. She rapidly failed, and on the 7th of August, 1560, she
expired. The grief of Ivan was heartrending, and never was national
affliction manifested in a more sincere and touching manner. Not only
the whole court, but almost the entire city of Moscow, followed the
remains of Anastasia to their interment. Many, in the bitterness of
their grief, sobbed aloud. The most inconsolable were the poor and
friendless, calling Anastasia by the name of mother. The anguish of
Ivan for a time quite unmanned him, and he wept like a child. The loss
of Anastasia did indeed