, for he murmured
to himself in a puzzled way, "Why in one place and not in another?"

Dear old man, he presented me with his portrait, here given, and all his
published works, and hoped, as I do, that it would not be long before I
went to see him again.

When at length the Metropolitan Antonius, after a long illness, passed
away, he was succeeded by the Archbishop of Moscow who, in his turn, was
succeeded by Archbishop Macarius, and it is of the last-named that I
will next give briefly my experience. It was on January 10, 1914,
according to our calendar, and on December 28, 1913, according to the
Russian, when I had the feeling of being in two years at the same time,
and of spending the same Christmas first in London and then in Russia,
that he received me in his palace at Moscow. Palace it certainly is in
the character and spaciousness of its rooms, but the furniture is what
we should consider, in our own country, simple and rather conventional.
The salon, or drawing-room, was very large, with the usual polished
floor and rugs laid upon it. At one side two rows of chairs, facing each
other, stood out from the wall, against which a sofa was placed, and in
front of that a table. It was exactly the same at the Archiepiscopal
Palace at Riga, where I had been a few months before, and the same
procedure was followed on both occasions.

[Illustration: _The Convent at Ekaterinburg, Siberia._]

First the archbishop warmly embraced me, kissing me on either cheek and
then upon the lips, and then courteously waved me to the seat of honour
upon the sofa. At Riga when the archbishop took his seat upon the sofa
he indicated the place beside him which I did not notice, and took the
chair. But just as I was about to sit down, Madame Alexaieff, who had
most kindly come to interpret, said hurriedly and in rather a shocked
tone, "Take the seat beside him, he wishes it," and, remembering the
etiquette of the sofa as observed still by old-fashioned people in
Germany, I did as I was told.

At Moscow, however, I was more observant, and when the archbishop
courteously waved his hand to the sofa I bowed to him and at once sat
down, but only to find that he himself took a chair next me and left me
alone in the place of dignity. It was quite in keeping with his whole
bearing and conversation throughout, for he is evidently one of the most
humble and unassuming of men. Yet he has covered himself with
distinction in the course of his long lif