ed a good opportunity to get a
popular explanation of a point which had puzzled me.

"Which," I asked, "is the real miraculous Iversky Virgin?--the one in
the chapel, the one who rides in the carriage, or the original on Mount
Athos?"

"It is plain that you don't understand in the least," answered my
_izvostchik_, turning round in his seat and imperiling our lives by his
driving, while he plunged into the subject with profound earnestness.
"None of them is the Virgin, and all of them are the Virgin. All the
different Virgins are merely different manifestations of the Virgin to
men. The Virgin herself is in heaven, and communicates her power where
she wills. It is like the Life-giving Trinity." Assuming that as a
foreigner, and consequently a heretic, I did not understand the doctrine
of the Trinity, he proceeded to expound it, and did it extremely well. I
lent half an ear in amazement to him, and half an ear I reserved for the
objurgations of the drivers who were so good as to spare our lives in
that crowded thoroughfare while my theological lesson was in progress.

While I am speaking of this unusual cabman, I may mention some unusual
private coachmen in Moscow who use their masters' sledges and carriages
for public conveyances while their owners are safely engaged in theatre
or restaurant. I do not think that trick could be played in Petersburg.
I found it out by receiving an amazingly reasonable offer from a very
well-dressed man with a superb gray horse and a fine sledge. As we
dashed along at lightning speed, I asked the man whether he owned that
fine turnout or worked on wages. "I own it myself," he said curtly.
Therefore, when I alighted, I slipped round behind the sledge and
scrutinized it thoroughly under the gaslight. The back was decorated
with a monogram and a count's coronet in silver! After that I never
asked questions, but I always knew what had happened when I picked up
very comfortable equipages at very reasonable rates in places which were
between gas lanterns and near theatres and so forth.

I should not be doing my duty by a very important factor in Russian life
if I omitted an illustration of the all-pervading influence of
"official" rank, and the prestige which acquaintance with officialdom
lends even to modest travelers like ourselves. It was, most
appropriately, in the Kremlin, the heart of Russia, that we were favored
with the most amusing of the many manifestations of it which came within
o