xx Russia

Port sub-call! Are at the world's end, strange fascinating lands back in us, bid us rebel and their exotic spenders,

come with us as we head for Port sub-call! Spalling eastward across the face of the earth, from Europe into Far East Asia, lies one-sixth of the world's landmass, a violent country, a fascinating country, a sociological laboratory, the like of which the world has never before seen.

This is Russia, our Port sub-call. An 18-hour rail journey takes us from the Russo-Polish frontier to Moscow, the capital of the Union of Soviet-Socialistic Republics, as Russia is officially known today. Here amid the bustling activity of the most socially minded people on Earth, amidst modern apartments and modern ideas, we find the physical reminders of the old Russia, of holy

Russia, the land which lays sleeping in superstition until the violent hand of revolution shook her awake. Here in the Kremlin, the city within the city are the domes and spires of the ancient churches and palaces, which today house the government.

Here is the gorgeous cathedral of St. Basil, bringing up memories of the first Tsar, the terrible Ivan, who the story goes, blinded the eyes of its architect, that he might never duplicate its beautiful spires.

Ivan, the terrible who massacred his subjects by the hundred thousand, began two sons, one and imbecile, the other and historical enigma. Ivan died. Bora Scudinoff, an aristocrat of the court, sees the throne from Fayette or the imbecile.

Sent Ivan's wife, the sardina, to a convent, and murdered Demetri, her son. For more than ten years Bora Scudinoff reigned as Tsar. And then, one night in the summer of 1605, as he sits alone in his palace in Moscow, Basmanoff, his faithful friend, brings him news that shakes his insecure throne.