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STCHOUKINE DVOR.
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"Why not?" thought I. "I must do something, or I shall die of misery."

In a voice which was very tremulous, and broke in the midst of my sentence, I said,—

"I owe Judith an apology. I acknowledge that you were right this morning,"—looking at her for the first time,—"and I was cowardly and mean."

"O Dorris!" she cried, all her dignity gone. "Don't let us— Come along!" pulling me towards the door; and we both made our escape, scarcely noticing what Tom was saying to George about his belonging to the family—reconciliation—tears, etc.

I felt very foolish when I came back, and thought the whole performance undignified and childish. Judith confessed to me afterwards that she had the same feeling about it. I soon forgot it, however, in the wonders of the Stchunkine Dvor.

It looks to the passer-by like a row of shops, two stories high, with a covered balcony, and here and there narrow alleys leading in behind the shops, where we caught glimpses of iron, wheels, coils of rope, etc. At last we turned into one of these paths, and then we found that the block was honeycombed with streets, a city within a city. An odor greeted us which caused us to hold our noses; but we soon got accustomed to it, and George assured us that it was nothing worse than leather. The familiar icon with its candle was hung at nearly every corner. What a labyrinth it was into which we had suddenly penetrated! Books, jewelry, uncut gems, sausages, religious objects, Siberian shawls, dress

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