and on foot to explore the town. Tom proposed a carriage.
"No," said Judith, "a sleigh."
Whereupon I added my voice: "Whichever you take, you will wish you had taken the other. Let us walk."
My proposition met with approval, and we started.
Oh, the queer old place! The shabbiness, quaintness, and general junk-shop appearance of the streets! Mud, moujiks, dirty snow, painted signs, poor old horses, gorgeous stucco palaces, bright-green churches, scarlet gates, walls with religious and battle pictures painted over them, shrines with burning candles, second-hand shops, brilliant passages, more churches than I can count, with gilded domes and minarets and crosses; and, most wonderful of all and above all, the Kremlin! There never was a city like it, and there never will be another.
"So this is Moscow," said Tom, when we had walked a few blocks. "I have seen enough to last me a lifetime."
"It is not in the least like what I had pictured it," Judith exclaimed. Tom had brought out a small note-book, and was overwhelming Alice and George with questions.
"The idea of your not knowing when that gate was built, or the name of the architect," he cried impatiently. "I shall not come out again without my 'Murray.'"
"I hope you won't," laughed Alice. "I am not prepared to serve as guide-book for you."
We were strolling along independently, in regular
