Crossing the Moskva River, the carriages proceeded by a very broad, straight avenue, through a gate, into the suburbs. The ascent of the hill is by a soft, oozy road, so trying for the horses that most of the students preferred to walk. The summit was gained. On it is a villa of the empress, and an estate of Prince Galitzin; but the party went to a cottage, where tea, coffee, and other refreshments are furnished. In the rear of it is a spacious veranda, with tables, where the students seated themselves, and from which a splendid view of Moscow is obtained. Beneath them flowed the Moskva, which could be seen for miles, winding through the level plain. The party drank coffee, enjoyed the view for an hour, and then returned to the city, visiting one of the monasteries on the way. Near the Kremlin they encountered a funeral on a grand scale, and the drivers of the carriages stopped at once. The aspect of the street was suddenly changed, for all business was suspended, all heads uncovered, and every passer-by halted. The procession was headed by a body of priests, clothed in black robes, and bearing lighted tapers and various religious emblems in their hands. The hearse was drawn by four horses, caparisoned in black, which covered their legs, with plumes on their heads. The vehicle was an open platform on wheels, upon which lay the coffin, covered with a pall. It had steps at the sides, on which stood priests, holding images over the body, while others followed it. The bells were tolling, and a strange chant rose from the procession. The spectators uttered prayers for the repose of the dead, which they always do on meeting a funeral, though the deceased be an entire stranger to them. The students took off their caps, and this custom, not entirely unknown in our own country, is worthy of respect.
"In Russia, it is believed that a person cannot die easily, if at all, when there is a pigeon feather in his pillow," said Dr. Winstock, as the carriages continued on their way. "When the sufferer seems to die hard, they think there must be a pigeon feather in the pillow under his head, and they often change it, so as to be sure on this point."
"What harm does the pigeon feather do?" asked Lincoln, curiously.