mired all the views of palaces, churches, and other fine buildings, of which there are so many in St Petersburg and Moscow, Mr Campbell asked if they knew what was the religion of the people in Russia. Mary said she supposed they were Roman Catholic, as she had noticed that the churches had a great many crosses on them.

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Yes," exclaimed Jessie, "and look at this picture of the inside of a church; see how all the people are bowing down to that picture, and those men in fine dresses are holding up great crosses; so they must be Papists."

"Not so fast, my dear," said her father, "I assure you the Russians would be greatly offended if you called them Roman Catholics. However, I do not wonder at your mistake, for their worship is really very much like Popery.'

Then what is their religion, father?"

"It is called the Greek Church, and it is professed all over the vast empire of Russia, and also in Greece and many parts of Turkey. Altogether, there are not less than seventy millions of people in the Greek Church. I am sorry to say it is very little, if any, better than Popery, as I think you will see when I have told you of some of the superstitions practised in Russia. If you were to go into any of the churches in St Petersburg, on Good-Friday, you would see a painting of Christ with his five bleeding wounds. This picture is placed on a box, and crowds of people come and kiss the painted wounds, weeping all the while. Some of them go away to

another part of the church to buy candles !"'

"To buy candles in a church!" cried Jessie; "well, that is strange; what is the meaning of that?"

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They will want them on the next night, for just before midnight on the Saturday, everybody goes to the churches, carrying candles in their hands. The moment that the .clock strikes twelve, every candle is lighted, and the priests sing Christ is risen.' Then the people shake hands and kiss each other. The bells ring, cannons are fired, fireworks let off, and all over the city there is nothing but uproar and rejoicing; every street is full of brightness and bustle, and music and mirth. The priests are very busy all night, for the people bring their food for them to bless; baskets of bread, honey, eggs, and other things, are placed in rows in the churches, and the priests sprinkle holy water on them. On the next morning, the Sabbath, every one who meets a friend says 'Christ is risen,' and gives him an egg, on which is generally painted

Christ is risen.' The day is ended with feasting and drunkenness. These poor superstitious Russians seem to have but little idea of the meaning of those precious words they repeat so often, Christ is risen.'

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"Their fasts are more frequent than in the Romish Church. I have read of a princess who asked her confessor what good thing she must do to inherit eternal life, and what do you think was his answer? He told her, that if she would eat nothing but mushroom skins she would become perfectly holy !"

"She would soon die, I think," remarked Jessie.

"The Russians have a great many saints, and, like the Papists, they pray far more to them, and to the Virgin Mary, than to God. Every house is hung round with pictures of saints. Even the poorest hut has at least one which is placed opposite the door. If a stranger enters, he bows before the picture, crosses himself several times, mutters a prayer, and then, but not before, he turns to the person living in the hut, and says, 'Jesus Christ be with you,' and after this he tells his errand.

"Dr Pinkerton happened to be in Moscow when a picture of the Virgin was brought on a visit to the city to collect money for a monastery. He describes the splendid procession of all the priests in their magnificent robes of silk and velvet, richly embroidered with gold, and many of them glittering with jewels. He says, 'It was a truly humbling spectacle to behold thousands of the ignorant and superstitious inhabitants of this city and neighbourhood, crossing and prostrating themselves before a black ugly female portrait as it passed by, decked out with gold and gems.'

"Another traveller in Russia, Dr Henderson, tells us of a visit he made

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"Poor people!" said Mary," have they no Bibles or missionaries, father?"

"The emperor has forbidden a single copy of the Scriptures to be printed in Russ, the language generally spoken; the Bible permitted is the Sclavonic, that is an ancient language which hardly any one understands now. And as for missionaries, the emperor would not allow them to teach his subjects. Foreigners in the country may have churches of their own, but no Russian may attend them." "But," asked Gilbert, "could not we send Bibles to them ?"

This was Mr Bernau, who had been more than a year among the Indians on the Corantyn river. When Mr

Bernau came to the Grove he was met on the river side by Mr Youd, who told him, with tears in his eyes, the sorrowful tale of the Indians having all left the station. The place had a very forlorn appearance, for the Indians had burnt all the huts according to their custom, as they think that the place where a person dies is always haunted by his spirit.

The two missionaries now agreed that one of them should journey through the country to stir up the Indians to seek for instruction, while the other should stay at the Grove. Mr Bernau was the one who remained, and he first set about building a cottage for himself and his family. He went into the woods to engage some of the people to help him, but to his surprise they all fled from him; so he was obliged to clear away the trees and build his cottage himself, with the help of the few boys left by Mr Youd. When this was finished he again tried to become friendly with the Indians, but whenever he made his appearance the children would scamper away into the bush, and their mothers after them, with a terrified shriek. The men would seize their bows and arrows and follow them. Mr Bernau saw that it would not be safe to intrude himself upon them, but he hit upon a plan which succeeded famously. He used to fill his pockets with biscuits and other nice things, which he threw among the children. This quite stopped their running away, for, after a few times, they no sooner saw the missionary than they crowded round him, asking,

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Have you brought anything for

us?" "Come and see," was Mr Bernau's answer; and then the little creatures helped themselves out of his pockets. They soon found that touching the missionary did not kill them, although the conjurors had said to the people, "You see what has happened at the Grove; nearly all that went there have died. If the missionary were to come near or touch you, you would die too." When the mothers saw that their children and the white man were such good friends, and yet that no harm came to them, they left off running away, and began to listen to what he had to say to them.

The Indians never worship idols; they believe in one God, whom they call the "Great Spirit," but they do not pray to him, for they think that he lives far away, and never troubles himself about what is going on in this world, but allows the Evil Spirit to make people sick, and do whatever he pleases. Mr Bernau told them that the Great Spirit loved them. They said, "We know he is good, for he does us no harm." Yes, but that is not all," said Mr Bernau ; "He loves you, and He has given up His only Son Jesus Christ to die for sinners; he died for your sins and for mine." "We are no sinners," said they ; are you a sinner? We have never seen you get drunk, or do bad things—what have you done?" "I am a sinner," said the missionary;" for twenty-three years 1 lived in forgetfulness of God, I was ungrateful to Him; like you, I neither loved Him nor feared Him."

"Is that all?" said the Indians, "that is a little thing." "Suppose,