After her return from a most interesting excursion to the monastery of St. Sergius, Princess Elizabeth says in a letter to her mother:--“The monastery is wide, low, and massive, like all Byzantine churches, and partly gloomy, or too bright for our taste. Everything in the Byzantine churches is bright and cheerful, and the religion is also a cheerful one. It is the religion of the Resurrection. Good Friday is hardly kept at all, whereas Easter is kept for a week. They are naturally cheerful, and even the monks look bright and uncultivated. They differ entirely from the hollow-cheeked ascetic monks of the West, nor have their monasteries the same influence as our monasteries.” Princess Elizabeth was quite delighted with the expedition to Moscow. She was charmed with the palace of the Grand Duchess, with the large garden adjoining, and the daily life was more like that of a family party. Everything reminded her of Monrepos. She felt herself unrestrained, at home; her health was restored, and she fully enjoyed every pleasure. Attended by the ladies-in-waiting, she was sent by the Grand Duchess to visit the many charitable institutions, and behaved with so much assurance that it appeared as if she were in the habit of inspecting and examining. On getting into the train on her return journey she exclaimed, “Those were happy days,” as she gazed back at the old city of the Czars. The time of her stay at St. Petersburg was coming to an end. For her future life it was to be a time of great importance. She had become accustomed to life at a great Court, had learnt to know the rites and ceremonies of the Greek Church, and her social and intellectual sphere had widened during her stay with the Grand Duchess Hélène. In a letter which she wrote as reigning Princess of Roumania six years later she dwells upon this as follows:--“I feel every day what a blessing my intercourse with my aunt and her circle of friends was for my whole life. In my present position it is of untold value to me.” Early in June the Grand Duchess brought her niece back to Germany. The Princess of Wied awaited her daughter at Leipsic. What a sorrowful meeting it was! And the return to the desolate Monrepos was hardly to be borne. Her deep sorrow for the loss of her father, which she had had to keep back, now broke out with all its power. Wherever she looked she seemed to see him, and she thought she could not live without him. She longed for his words of teaching, which had brought her to think for herself; for the old habits, which always had him for their object and centre. _To her Brother._ “MONREPOS, _20th August 1864_.