And, to an American thinker, more hopeful still for Russia is the patriarchal democratic system,—­spreading a primary political education through the whole mass.  Leaders of their hamlets and communities are voted for; bodies of peasants settle the partition of land and assessments in public meetings; discussions are held; votes are taken; and though Tzar’s right and nobles’ right are considered far above people’s right, yet this rude democratic schooling is sure to keep bright in the people some sparks of manliness and some glow of free thought.

In view, too, of many words and acts of the present Emperor, it is not too much to hope, that, ere many years, Russia will become a constitutional monarchy.

So shall Russia be made a power before which all other European powers shall be pigmies.

Before the close of the year in which we now stand, there is to be celebrated at Nijnii-Novogorod the thousandth anniversary of the founding of Russia.  Then is to rise above the domes and spires of that famed old capital a monument to the heroes of Russian civilization.

Let the sculptor group about its base Rurik and his followers, who in rude might hewed out strongholds for the coming nation.  Let goodly place be given to Minime and Pojarski, who drove forth barbarian invaders,—­goodly place also to Platov and Kutusov, who drove forth civilized invaders.  Let there be high-placed niches for Ivan the Great, who developed order,—­for Peter the Great, who developed physical strength,—­for Derjavine and Karamsin, who developed moral and mental strength.  Let Philarete of Moscow stand forth as he stood confronting with Christ’s gospel the traffickers in flesh and blood.  In loving care let there be wrought the face and form of Alexander the First,—­the Kindly.

But, crowning all, let there lord it a noble statue to the greatest of Russian benefactors in all these thousand years,—­to the Warrior who restored peace,—­to the Monarch who had faith in God’s will to make order, and in man’s will to keep order,—­to the Christian Patriot who made forty millions of serfs forty millions of men,—­to Alexander the Second,—­ALEXANDER THE EARNEST.

* * * * *

MR. AXTELL.

PART IV.

I said that the afternoon sunlight poured its rain into the church-yard.  It was four of the clock when Aaron left me.

The dream that I had received impression of still dwelt in active remembrance, and a little fringe from the greater glory mine eyes had seen went trailing in flows of light along the edge of earth, as if saying unto it, “Arise and behold what I am!”

One child habiting earth dared to lift eyes into the awful arch of air, wherein are laid the foundation-stones of the crystalline wall, and, beholding drops of Infinite Love, garnered one, and, walking forth with it in her heart, went into the church-yard,—­a regret arising that the graves that held the columns fallen from the family-corridor had found so little of place within affection’s realm.  The regret, growing into resolution, hastened her steps, that went unto the place devoted to the dead Percivals.  It was in a corner,—­the corner wherein grew the pine-tree of the hills.