On our way out of the city, we passed the church of the Saviour, the largest church in Moscow, with the most splendid dome, which, being covered with gilding, looks like a mighty sun rising. The church has been in process of building more than fifty years, and is far from being finished yet. It is intended as a memorial of the French invasion and its awful fate; and it was begun in the year 1812, so memorable for that critical event in the history of Russia, of France, and of mankind. And it was on the Sparrow Hills that Napoleon first saw Moscow. An hour’s ride from the hotel brought us to the Simonoff Monastery, which has been here through all the storms of weather and war these last five hundred years. Rich in lands with thousands of serfs, and the treasury into which emperors and princes poured their royal gifts, it has been sacked again and again by invading hordes, but has lived on, with six churches within its walls. A lake near by is reached by an underground passage, and miracles of healing are _said to be_ wrought upon the sick who come here with faith, and stay until they get well. In the midst of the enclosure rises a tower more than three hundred feet, and a blind bell-ringer delights in leading you to the look-out loft, and answering every question you can ask respecting every object in _your_ sight. You may be sure that he is right in his answers, though he is blind as a bat. The Novo-Devichi Convent, with six churches and a romantic history, the Donskoi Monastery, and the Novospaski Monastery, are scattered through this region, and are all visible and accessible in the visit to the hill country around Moscow. But the roads are wretched and the weather hot; the sun is getting low in the west, and we are in haste to enjoy the glories that are to burst upon our sight when we come to stand where Napoleon stood at the head of his proud legions and first saw Moscow! At the foot of the hill flows the river Moskva, and row-boats are plying back and forth to carry the many passengers, chiefly of the humbler classes of people, who are going to and from the hills, on this feast-day in the Church, and so a holiday for them all. Leaving the carriage, we were ferried across and then climbed the hills, where hundreds of the Muscovites were enjoying themselves on the green slopes, eating, drinking, and laughing gaily, playing tricks upon one another, and making themselves merry, as the same class of people do in every part of the world. And it is pleasant to think that other people have “a good time” as well as we, in what clime soever they chance to live, and however much they lack the things that we think indispensable to enjoyment. Some of them were playing cards on the ground, some were drinking _quas_, a strong spirit; and some who had already taken too much for their manners, called out saucily to us to come and take a drink of _gin_.