trees extend to the
horizon.

No city in the world, with the exception of Rome, has so many
churches as the holy Stolitza of Russia. It is affirmed that Moscow
boasts of forty times forty churches. Each one has at least five, and
several even sixteen, cupolas that are brilliantly painted, and
covered with colored glazed bricks, or richly silvered and gilded,
glittering in the blue atmosphere like the sun when it is half above
the horizon. Even the graceful towers, rising sometimes to
considerable heights from the immense mass of houses and gardens, are
similarly ornamented, and neither do the larger ones among the palaces
lack the addition of a cupola.

The dwelling houses are almost always in gardens, and are distinctly
outlined against the dark background of trees by their white walls and
flat iron roofs painted light green or red. The oldest part alone,
close to the Kremlin--the Kitai-Gorod, or the Chinese quarter--forms a
city according to our notions, where the houses touch each other, and
are carefully enclosed by a beautiful turreted wall, here, of course,
painted white. All the rest seems to be a large collection of country
houses, between which the Moskwa winds its way.

The Kremlin contains (besides the palaces of the Czars and the
Patriarchs) the Arsenal and the treasures of the church. Here are
concentrated the highest civil and religious powers. The cloisters,
mostly at the extremities of the city, are fortresses in themselves.

It was in the Kitai-Gorod that the commercial guild established
itself, needing for its wares, imported from China, Bucharia,
Byzantium, and Novgorod, the protection of walls. The rest, and by far
the larger part of Moscow, was built by the nobility for themselves;
and long after the first Emperor had raised a new capital upon the
enemy's ground it was looked upon with contempt by the grandees of the
Empire, still faithfully clinging to the customs of their fathers.

The venerable city of Moscow, with its ancient, sacred relics and
historical reminiscences, still remains an object of veneration and
love to every Russian; and, often coming from a distance of hundreds
of miles, when getting a glimpse of the golden cross on the Church of
Ivan Welicki, he falls on his knees in reverence and patriotic
fervor. St. Petersburg is his pride, but Moscow is nearer to his
heart. And, in truth, Moscow has no resemblance to St. Petersburg.
There is no Neva here, no sea, no steamers; nowher