to dishes.  After I had completed my ablutions, I turned dumbly, with dripping face and extended hands, for a towel.  My steward understood the silent appeal, and, taking a napkin from a plate of bread, presented it with alacrity.  I made use of it, I confess, but hastened out of the pantry, lest I should happen to see it restored to its former place. How not to observe is a faculty as necessary to the traveller as its reverse.  I was reminded of this truth at dinner, when I saw the same steward take a napkin (probably my towel!) from under his arm, to wipe both his face and a plate which he carried.  To speak mildly, these people on Lake Ladoga are not sensitive in regard to the contact of individualities.  But the main point is to avoid seeing what you don’t like.

We got off at an early hour, and hastened back to Valaam over glassy water and under a superb sky.  This time the lake was not so deserted, for the white wings of pilgrim-boats drew in towards the dark island, making for the golden sparkle of the chapel-dome, which shone afar like a light-house of the daytime.  As we rounded to in the land-locked inlet, we saw that the crowds on the hills had doubled since yesterday, and, although the chimes were pealing for some religious service, it seemed prudent first to make sure of our quarters for the night.  Accordingly we set out for the imposing house of guests beside the monastery, arriving in company with the visitors we had brought with us from Serdopol.  The entrance-hall led into a long, stone-paved corridor, in which a monk, bewildered by many applications, appeared to be seeking relief by promises of speedy hospitality.  We put in our plea, and also received a promise.  On either side of the corridor were numbered rooms, already occupied, the fortunate guests passing in and out with a provoking air of comfort and unconcern.  We ascended to the second story, which was similarly arranged, and caught hold of another benevolent monk, willing, but evidently powerless to help us.  Dinner was just about to be served; the brother in authority was not there; we must be good enough to wait a little while;—­would we not visit the shrines, in the mean time?

The advice was sensible, as well as friendly, and we followed it.  Entering the great quadrangle of the monastery, we found it divided, gridiron-fashion, into long, narrow court-yards by inner lines of buildings.  The central court, however, was broad and spacious, the church occupying a rise of ground on the eastern side.  Hundreds of men and women—­Carelian peasants—­thronged around the entrance, crossing themselves in unison with the congregation.  The church, we found, was packed, and the most zealous wedging among the blue caftans and shining flaxen heads brought us no farther than the inner door.  Thence we looked over a tufted level of heads that seemed to touch,—­intermingled tints of gold, tawny, silver-blond, and the various shades of brown, touched with dim glosses through the