figure and long gray hair streaming in the wind, faded rapidly out of sight as, his speed increasing, he ran with incredible rapidity towards the mountains in the East. The Elixir of Rapidity had borne him away almost like the wind, leaving the youth desolate and alone in that dreary hovel.

"It was race-weck at Nishni-Novgorod. Baron Nikolaus's celebrated racer had been entered, to the terror of all competi tors. The baron himself, accompanied by his beautiful daughter Nikolajewna, occupied a seat in his carriage near the graud stand. So great was the fame of the baron's horse, it was doubtful whether there would be found any bold enough to enter against him. The president of the club was on the point of requesting the baron to withdraw, when a stranger, stepping forward, quietly remarked that he was ready to match his horse against the baron's racer.

666

"You!' ejaculated the president. 'Are you aware whom it is you encounter?'

"Perfectly,' replied the stranger, coldly.

"And where is the steed you have the temerity to enter against the fleetest racer in all Europe?'

666

Already on the track.'

"Following the stranger's glance, the president beheld, a few yards from his stand, a scraggy-looking animal, halting in gait and blind in one eye.

"What mean you, sir?' he exclaimed, indignantly." 'What mean you by running such a—a—a scrub, sir? This is no place for foolery.'

"Nor do I mean foolery,' said the stranger, with a cynical smile. 'Do you see this? It is an unlimited letter of credit on the Rothschilds at Frankfort. Say to the baron I will wager a million rubles on the success of the animal you call a scrub.'

"The message was conveyed to the baron, and quickly spread through the crowd. 'Some wealthy lunatic anxious to be rid of his money,' was the universal verdict.

"A madman!' the baron exclaimed, indignant at the idea of

the scrub running against his fleet racer. It was observed, however, that the baron was not averse to winning the stranger's money, even though he were a madman.

"We must teach him a lesson,' he said; and the enormous wager of the stranger's million against the baron's fortune was soon arranged. Baron Nikolaus was reputed worth, at the least, five million rubles, but the odds, five to one, seemed nothing when one looked at the two horses. The idea that the stranger's hobbledy, lame-footed scrub had the slightest chance of winning appeared too monstrous to entertain for a moment. As the judges were on the point of giving the starting signal, the stranger requested permission to examine his animal.

"I make it a rule to see that all is right before starting,' he said, with a queer smile.

"Certainly,' the judges replied; and if you can right the hobbledy gait and blind eye of your scrub you may win after all.'

"The stranger, making no reply, approached his horse and began to examine his limbs. None of the thousands of eyes that were fastened upon him knew what was going on when, with a small syringe, he hypodermically injected in the fore and hind legs a few drops of a liquid taken from a phial carried in his pocket. So quietly and skilfully was this operation performed that it was unobserved; nor, had it been seen, would the public have understood its connection with the subsequent amazing event.

"The signal to start was given. The baron's racer shot forth like an arrow; the stranger's miserable scrub ambled slowly off at a hobbling gait, amid the jeers and hoots of the populace. But their shouts and laughter gradually lessened, and finally gave way to amazed silence as the scrub, seemingly aided by magic, increased his speed with marvellous rapidity, gaining every moment, and in ten seconds shooting by the baron's racer like a gust of wind. Before his competitor had made the first mile, the scrub had made the complete circuit, dashed by the judges' stand, and was flying around on the second mile. Judges,

people, all too amazed to speak, sat dumfounded, while the stranger's horse continued flying round the course with such astounding rapidity as to be scarcely visible.

"Towards the fifth mile, long after the baron's racer had left the course, the strange steed's speed began to slacken, and finally he drew up before the eyes of the dazed crowd, quivering in every nerve, the perspiration dripping from every porc. His jockey, who, after the first mile, had given up all attempt at curbing his speed, and simply held on, clutching him around the neck with might and main, now tumbled to the ground almost paralyzed with fear. It is impossible to describe the uproar and confusion that ensued. The senses of the people were paralyzed; one thing was clearly apparent: by some unheard of, some inconceivable means, the stranger's scrub had won, and the baron was a ruined man. That night Baron Nikolaus received a letter:

"Two years ago,' began the letter, 'I had the honor of being a suitor for your daughter's hand. You said the winner of your daughter's hand must be the owner of a million. I have now a second time the honor of suing for her hand. My present suit will, I trust, be successful. I have the pleasure of signing myself the possessor of five times the necessary million. "PAUL PETROWITSCH.'

"Of course the baron gave his consent; but it was not until after the marriage that he learned that his son-in-law and the winner of his fortune were one and the same."

CHAPTER XXIII.

IN THE HEART OF RUSSIA.-HOW TAXES ARE COLLECTED.-THE PILGRIM CHURCH AND THE WONDERFUL PICTURE OF THE MOTHER OF GOD.-ARRESTED FOR WRITING IN MY NOTE-BOOK.—THE CZAR'S PALACE.-MOSCOW AND ST. PETERSBURG.

I ARRIVED in Kiev one Sunday night in a freezing rain. It was bitter cold. Wearied with long nights and days of journeyings, I never before felt so dispirited. I had managed to get a little troubled sleep by spreading my rubber coat on the floor under the benches of the railroad car; but it seemed to me my eyes had hardly closed before the black-bearded conductor pulled me out and I found we were at Kiev. I stepped on the station platform feeling utterly lost. I was in the heart of Russia, ignorant of a single word of the language, and, worst of all, with a pocket-book depleted to an alarming thinness. The next morning I hurried to the post-office. The draft I was expecting had not come. I walked to the heights overlooking the Dnieper and the adjacent swampy plains. As I gazed on those vast swamps extending hundreds of versts towards Moscow, the possibility of having to make the journey on foot was anything but cheerful. I was greatly relieved next day on receiving the draft.

In Kiev I saw what seemed the side-show of an American circus. There was a squeaking hand- organ, a ticket - vender with his (presumably, for it was in Russian) "Step this way, gentlemen, right this way, for the greatest show on earth." On broad sheets of canvas, to afford an idea of the unparalleled wonders within, were hideous lying pictures. I paid twentyfive kopecks (twelve and a half cents) to see this aggregation of marvels. What did I see? An Edison phonograph!--that was the entire show. It reminded me of a show I saw in Rome,

where, when returning from the Vatican, a flaming poster on a little side street caught my eye. It announced that in the "Stabilimento grandioso" adjoining was to be seen the most marvellous collection in Rome, all for the modest sum of forty centessimi-eight cents. I paid eight cents, and saw-a lot of photographs! They were lying on a table in a heap. I, who had just seen the originals in the Vatican free of charge, paid eight cents to see poor photographs in the "Stabilimento grandioso!"

The Pilgrim Church of Kiev is surrounded by a high wall. Half a dozen or more gilded domes surmount the roof; its appearance is Oriental. When you enter the gate of the big wall you pass between two lines of beggars, and find yourself in the church amid a labyrinth of narrow and crooked passages, the walls of which are decorated with most doleful and lugubriouslooking frescos of saints and apostles. Pictures of Christ and the Virgin are numerous, and are set in frames of gold and jewels. Some of these frames contain jewels worth half a million dollars. The celebrated painting of the Virgin at Moscow is valued at even greater figures, on account of the brilliant stones in its frame. The Moscow Virgin is used to heal the sick and bring back to life the dying. The picture with its dazzling frame is placed on a car with great ceremony, and drawn by six horses to the house where the miracle is to be performed. To Americans accustomed only to read of miracles, not to see them, this ceremony is interesting. A grand cavalcade of priests and people starts from the little church opposite the Kremlin to accompany the Virgin's picture on its holy mission.

The Pilgrim Church at Kiev has nothing to rival the miracle Virgin painting of Moscow; it has, however, other features as interesting. Three hundred thousand people visit the church every year. Pilgrims are met on the road-side long before the church is reached some in skins, some in rags, some without shoes, their feet blistered and almost bleeding from cold and fatigue. They walk hundreds of miles, and a