T. ISAAC'S CATHEDRAL, probably the finest church in Northern Europe, stands in the great square called Isaac's Place, which extends to the banks of the Neva. It occupies the site of a church originally built by Peter the Great, and dedicated to St. Isaac of Dalmatia, because the city of St. Petersburg was founded on the day sacred to him. Like nearly all of the Greek churches, it is in the form of a Greek cross, with four equal sides, and is surmounted with a cupola of copper overlaid with gold, supported by pillars of polished granite. Each of the four grand entrances is reached by three flights of granite steps, each entire flight chiselled from a single block. The four porticos have monolithic granite columns sixty feet in height, with Corinthian capitals in bronze.

The magnificent proportions of this cathedral, the grand simplicity of its architecture and its imposing situation strike the visitor with awe as he approaches it from the side of the square facing the river. On the left is the Admiralty, its side six hundred and fifty feet in length, its front extending half a mile to the square of the Winter Palace; on the right, the Senate-House and the Holy Synod; and in its front is the colossal equestrian statue of Peter the Great.

The interior of St. Isaac's is as remarkable for its magnificence of decoration as is the

exterior for its grandeur and sublimity. Polished variegated marbles of every hue-all from the Russian dominions-splendid columns of malachite and of lapis-lazuli, gilded bronze-work and pictures and mosaics by Russian artists present a coup d'œil almost impossible to describe. The inmost shrine, presented by Mr. Demidoff, is valued at a million rubles. The Royal Door of the ikonastas, or screen, is of bronze, and is twenty-three feet in height by fifteen in breadth. To one accustomed to our plainer edifices of worship St. Isaac's appears to have an exuberance of decoration, but the grand ceremonial of the Greek Church demands corresponding surroundings.

The cathedral is a comparatively new building even where everything is of the present, having been begun in 1819 by Alexander I., and consecrated in 1858 by Alexander II. Its foundation alone, of piles driven into the swampy soil, is said to have cost over a million dollars. It was built by M. Montferrand, a French architect, who erected also the great Alexander column. If he had never accomplished any other works, these two ought to immortalize his name.

The equestrian statue of Peter the Great is one of the most noted monuments of Europe. The emperor is reining in his horse on the brink of a precipice, a serpent writhing under his charger's feet, being emblematic of the difficulties which beset the founder of Russia's greatness in the beginning. The block of granite which forms the pedestal weighs fifteen hundred tons, and was brought from

T two o'clock the guide entered the shelter of a thick forest, which he had to traverse for a space of several miles. He preferred to travel thus under cover of the woods. At all events, up to this moment there had been no unpleasant meeting, and it seemed as if the journey would be accomplished without accident, when the elephant, showing some signs of uneasiness, suddenly stopped. It was then four o'clock. "What is the matter?" asked Sir Francis Cromarty, raising his head above his howdah. "I do not know, officer," replied the Parsee, listening to a confused murmur which came through the thick branches.

A few moments after, this murmur became more defined. It might have been called a concert, still very distant, of human voices and brass instruments. Passepartout was all eyes, all ears. Mr. Fogg waited patiently without uttering a word.

The Parsee jumped down, fastened the elephant to a tree and plunged into the thickest of the undergrowth. A few minutes later he returned saying,

The guide unfastened the elephant and led him into a thicket, recommending the travellers not to descend. He held himself ready to mount the elephant quickly should flight become necessary; but he thought that the troop of the Faithful would pass without noticing him, for the thickness of the foliage entirely concealed him.

The discordant noise of voices and instruments approached. Monotonous chants were mingled with the sound of the drums and cymbals. Soon the head of the procession appeared from under the trees, at fifty paces from the spot occupied by Mr. Fogg and his companions. Through the branches they readily distinguished the curious personnel of this religious ceremony.

In the first line were the priests, with mitres upon their heads and attired in long robes adorned with gold and silver lace. They were surrounded by men, women and children, who were singing a sort of funereal psalmody, interrupted at regular intervals by the beating of tam-tams and cymbals. Behind them, on a car with large wheels, whose spokes and felloes represented serpents intertwined, appeared a hideous statue, drawn by two pairs of richly-caparisoned zebus. This statue had four arms, its body colored with dark red, its eyes haggard, its hair tangled, its tongue hanging out, its lips colored with henna and betel. Its neck was encircled by a collar of skulls; around its waist, a girdle. of human hands. It was erect upon a prostrate giant, whose head was missing.

statue.

The goddess Kali," he murmured—“ the goddess of love and death."

"Of death, I grant; but of love, never!" said Passepartout. 'The ugly old woman!" The Parsee made him a sign to keep quiet.

Around the statue there was a group of old fakirs jumping and tossing themselves about convulsively, smeared with bands of ochre, covered with cross-like cuts, whence their blood escaped drop by drop-stupid fanatics who in the great Hindoo ceremonies precipitated themselves under the wheels of the car of Juggernaut.

Behind them some Brahmins, in all the magnificence of their Oriental costume, were dragging a woman who could hardly hold herself erect. This woman was young and as fair as a European. Her head, her neck, her shoulders, her ears, her arms, her hands and her toes were loaded down with jewels, necklaces, bracelets, ear-rings and fingerrings. A tunic embroidered with gold, covered with a light muslin, displayed the outlines of her form.

Behind this young woman-a violent contrast for the eyes-were guards armed with naked sabres fastened to their girdles and long damaskeened pistols, carrying a corpse upon a palanquin. It was the body of an old man dressed in the rich garments of a rajah, having, as in life, his turban embroidered with pearls, his robe woven of silk and gold, his sash of cashmere ornamented with diamonds, and his magnificent arms as an Indian prince.

Then musicians and a rear-guard of fanatics, whose cries sometimes drowned the

And this corpse?" asked Mr. Fogg.

"It is that of the prince her husband," replied the guide-" an independent rajah of Bundelcund.”

"How?" replied Phileas Fogg, without his voice betraying the least emotion. "Do these barbarous customs still exist in India? and have not the English been able to extirpate them?"

"In the largest part of India," replied Sir Francis Cromarty, "these sacrifices do not come to pass; but we have no influence over these wild countries, and particularly over this territory of Bundelcund. All the north