priests clad in magnificent
robes, before whom lay their late confrere reposing in his coffin, and
dressed, according to custom, in his ecclesiastical robes. Tall lighted
candles draped with crape surrounded him, and the solemn chant had been
going on around him ever since life had become extinct. The dead in Russia
are never left alone or in the dark. Relays of singing priests take the
places of those who are weary, and friends keep watch in an adjoining room.
The Russian temperament inclines to the strongest manifestation of the
inmost feelings, and the method here of mourning for the dead is
exceptionally demonstrative. The corpse of the old priest lay surrounded by
what was of bright colors or purest white, the coffin being of the
last-mentioned hue. Black was utterly proscribed. The face and hands were
half buried in a lacy texture, whilst on the brow was placed a label,
"fillet-fashion," on which was written "The Thrice Holy," or
_Trisagion_--"O Holy God! O Holy Mighty! O Holy Immortal! have mercy upon
us!"

Chant after chant ascended for the repose of his soul. The deacon's deep
bass voice rose ever and anon in leading fashion, the other voices
following suit. There was of course no instrumental music. This Russian
singing is curiously unique--of a character wholly different from any heard
elsewhere. It is weird in the extreme, and, if the expression be
permissible, gypsy-like. The deacons' voices are of wonderful capability,
the popular belief being that they are specially chosen on account of this
peculiar power. At last there came a pause. Not only the priests' and
deacons' voices, but those of the chanting men and boys--alike unsurpliced
and uncassocked, lacking, therefore, much of the attraction offered by a
service in the Western Catholic Church--had all at once ceased to be
heard. All were now pressing forward to kiss the dead priest--his
fellow-priests first, and then, duly in order, all his relations and
friends. "The last kiss" it is termed--a practice, it would seem, derived
from the heathen custom, of which we find such frequent mention. None, if
possible, omit the performance of this duty, all seeking to obtain the
blessing or benefit, supposed to be thereby conferred. Some, however, are
obliged to content themselves with merely kissing the corners of the
coffin.

Many of the numerous _stichera_, as they are termed--poetically-worded
prose effusions--made use of in the course of the service are cur