The young girls were all occupied in embroidery. One was making a chalice-cover; it was about three-quarters of a yard square, of crimson velvet and pearls; in the middle was a resplendent cross, and the figure of a cherub with its wings spread, painted on some peculiar substance, was inserted at each corner. Another was engaged in ornamenting the collar of a robe with spangles and gold lace, with here and there the imitation of some precious stone. They seemed pleased at my admiration of their skill, and the abbess kindly offered to show me the wardrobe belonging to the church, which she assured me had been made entirely by the inmates of the convent. On my expressing a great wish to see it, she led the way through a long corridor; we descended some stone steps, at the foot of which was a door, which my friend opened. Here I was shown into several rooms surrounded by immense clothes-presses and chests of drawers. Each was unlocked in succession, and innumerable suits of vestments were displayed to view. Some were of silver tissue with flowers of silk woven on it, others of silk with gold flowers, or of cloth of gold enriched with pearl embroidery. Each seemed to me more magnificent than the last, and the dresses were in such quantities that I thought the holy sister who accompanied us would never have finished opening and shutting the drawers. I inquired whether the splendid materials had been presented to the establishment. “Yes,” answered the superior; “all these vestments are made out of the palls thrown over the coffin at rich funerals. After the interment they become the property of the church in which the deceased is buried, and are put to the use you see. Many of the dresses,” continued she, “are, as you may perceive, very ancient; some were embroidered in the reign of Peter the Great, and others in the time of Anne and Elizabeth. But you have seen enough of these; would you not like to visit our infant-school?” So saying she opened a door on the opposite side and led the way through the church. There was an old nun standing before an image as motionless as a statue; she was rapidly repeating in a low tone some prayers in Sclavonic, and then prostrated herself several times and kissed the pavement. The superior smiled approvingly as we passed, and then informed me that it was sister Marie, “one of the most truly devout women in the convent, for no illness nor any other reason ever prevents her from performing her religious duties either night or day.” By this time we had reached a moderately-sized apartment, in which about twenty children were being taught to read by some of the nuns. They seemed happy and contented, and, to all appearance, were well treated: these were also children of priests. We afterwards visited some of the cells, which were very poorly furnished with a small mattress, a deal table, and one chair: we then proceeded to the refectory. It was their supper-time, being five o’clock, for the