secret of its triumphs and its glories. The whole of Russia's greatness reposes on this foundation.
We have crossed the threshold of the family dwelling; let us now follow the boïar on his walks abroad.
IV.—Society.
We know already that he never goes out except in a carriage or on horseback. The horse's trappings are as splendid as his master's clothes. The rider and his mount are all of a piece. The saddle is covered with morocco leather or velvet, embroidered with gold; the housings are of the same precious material, the frontlet silver-mounted, and chains and necklets and bells jingle down to the creature's very hoofs. A perfect peal, in fact, giving warning, even from the distance, of the great man's coming, and bidding passers-by get themselves out of the way. The carriage, generally, was a sledge, for even in summer-time wheeled vehicles were despised, being considered much less dignified. This sledge, long and very narrow, usually held only one person. But two servants, as a rule, crouched on it at their master's feet, hidden, like him, in winter-time, by a mass of furs. The horse, another peal of bells, adorned according to the season of the year with feathers or fox and marten tails, was bestridden by the coachman. Thus our boïar fared forth a-visiting, but as he neared the house he proposed to honour with his presence, a question of etiquette arose. Where should he dismount or get out of his sledge? This, if the house to which the visit was paid belonged to a person of the highest rank, must be done at the courtyard gate. At the Kremlin, a few dignitaries had the entrée to the courtyard, but they would have been knouted if they had dared to cross it altogether. Amongst equals, the visitor could drive or ride to the steps of the house. Here he was received, according to circumstances and to the rules of a most scrupulous ceremonial, by the master of the house or some attendant. Once within doors, he began by saluting the holy pictures, crossing himself before them, and then touching the ground with his right hand. Then he proceeded to salute his host, exchanging civilities ruled by the equality or differences of the respective ranks, and ranging from handshakings to genuflections. Everything, down to the tiniest detail, was carefully regulated. The opening remarks, too, followed certain stereotyped formulas, very ceremonious and hypocritically humble. 'I strike my forehead like a slave in the presence of my benefactor! … Pardon the poverty of my intelligence! …' Speaking to a Churchman, it was absolutely necessary to declare one's self 'a great and impious sinner,' and
