quarter of a yard deep, with red and blue cotton; a full white waist; wide sleeves, embroidered like the apron; a blue bodice; several strings of colored beads; and a blue or red tiara on the head, tied under the hair with broad ribbons, which hang far down the back.
Yesterday was the Russian Christmas; but, as we had passed the 25th of December with no particular rejoicing, we did not feel much interest in celebrating the foreign festival.
On Christmas Eve—night before last—we went to a service at St. Isaac's. The church was crowded, and a large proportion of the worshippers were men, principally peasants. A strong odor of sheepskin and leather mingled with the incense. The people were extremely devout, bowing and crossing themselves frequently,—sometimes kneeling, and putting their foreheads on the cold pavement. There was an expression of rapt devotion on those peasant faces that I shall not soon forget.
The service was wonderfully impressive to me. It was in the Slav language, which of course I don't understand, but it would have been difficult not to feel devout while listening to the deep, rich tones of the deacon's voice and the sweet responses of the choir. There was no accompaniment, as instruments are forbidden in the Greek Church.
The clergy wore robes of magnificent brocade. Some of the bass voices were the finest I have ever heard.
