ts were all astir. We walked over to the little log
church as quickly as possible, but the service had already commenced
when we entered and silently took our places in the crowd of bowing
worshippers. The sides of the room were lined with pictures of
patriarchs and Russian saints, before which were burning long wax
candles wound spirally with strips of gilded paper. Clouds of blue
fragrant incense rolled up toward the roof from swinging censers,
and the deep intonation of the gorgeously attired priest contrasted
strangely with the high soprano chanting of the choir. The service of
the Greek Church is more impressive, if possible, than that of the
Romish; but as it is conducted in the old Slavonic language, it is
almost wholly unintelligible. The priest is occupied, most of the
time, in gabbling rapid prayers which nobody can understand; swinging
a censer, bowing, crossing himself, and kissing a huge Bible, which
I should think would weigh thirty pounds. The administration of the
sacrament and the ceremonies attending the transubstantiation of the
bread and wine are made very effective. The most beautiful feature in
the whole service of the Greco-Russian Church is the music. No one can
listen to it without emotion, even in a little log chapel far away in
the interior of Siberia. Rude as it may be in execution, it breathes
the very spirit of devotion; and I have often stood through a long
service of two or three hours, for the sake of hearing a few chanted
psalms and prayers. Even the tedious, rapid, and mixed-up jabbering
of the priest is relieved at short intervals by the varied and
beautifully modulated "Gospodi pameelui" [God, have mercy!] and "Padai
Gospodin" [Grant, O Lord!] of the choir. The congregation stands
throughout even the longest service, and seems to be wholly absorbed
in devotion. All cross themselves and bow incessantly in response to
the words of the priest, and not unfrequently prostrate themselves
entirely, and reverently press their foreheads and lips to the floor.
To a spectator this seems very curious. One moment he is surrounded
by a crowd of fur-clad natives and Cossacks, who seem to be listening
quietly to the service; then suddenly the whole congregation goes down
upon the floor, like a platoon of infantry under the fire of a masked
battery, and he is left standing alone in the midst of nearly a
hundred prostrate forms. At the conclusion of the Christmas morning
service the choir burst forth i