When Petrovna takes out the red dress for the little girl and a large package of buckwheat which mamma has sent to the family, every one in the house shouts with delight. It seems as though they could not thank her enough. Even the dogs wake up and begin to bark in excitement. In the midst of it all Petrovna's papa calls for her. She must go back to the grand city and her fine home. She will forget for a time that all children in the world cannot be as well dressed and well fed as herself. Petrovna has never yet been far away from St. Petersburg. She longs to go to the beautiful white-walled city of Moscow. Her mamma has been there, and has described its beauties over and over again. It is a long journey from St. Petersburg. As you draw near the city, a blaze of colour is spread out before you. Domes of red and gold and purple are shining on the hilltops in the glorious sunlight. Churches and towers and palaces are without number, and differ from each other in shape and beauty. Moscow is a mass of colour made of countless gems and countless tints. In the midst of the city is the Kremlin or citadel. But the Kremlin is not one building. It is really a fortress surrounded by a massive wall that encloses many palaces and cathedrals, beautiful gardens and stately convents. Great gates open into it, and each has its story. One of them is called the Nicholas gate. A picture of St. Nicholas, whom the Russians worship, hangs over it. At one time the French were at war with the Russians. They stormed this gate and split its solid stonework, but the picture was unharmed. "It is a miracle," the people said. There is a picture of the Virgin over another gate. The French tried to get this picture, but they did not succeed. This was another miracle, all thought, and no one passes through that gate now without taking off his hat. Within the Kremlin are other sacred pictures, which the people believe can work miracles. The oil of baptism is prepared and blessed by the high-priest in a certain cathedral in Moscow. It is sent to every church in Russia, that all new-born children may be baptised with it. Petrovna's mamma went to the city of Moscow when the Czar was crowned. He could not be formally made Emperor in St. Petersburg. That was not to be thought of. All Czars must be married as well as crowned in Moscow, and, until the time of Peter the Great, all have been buried there. The coronation of the present Czar was the greatest spectacle of modern times. Petrovna hears her mamma sigh when she tries to describe it. Everything was so grand and shining and gorgeous,--processions and fireworks, music and feasting, everybody pleased and gaily dressed; men in silk and velvet, ladies sparkling in satins covered with pearls and diamonds; the double-headed eagle, the bird of Russia, showing its gilded crowns everywhere.