seemed already asleep. It was now nearly midnight, and to one who had been standing above five hours, and before that had been jolting in a vehicle without springs under a hot sun over hard ground, part of the way a mere rough track, since four o'clock in the morning, it was no unpleasant thing to be able to lie down.1

The next morning, May 30, at eight o'clock, amid a perfect roar or thunder of bells, so that one could not hear a word said out of doors, and scarcely in, we went to the Liturgy. The church was stuck all over with green boughs and portions of trees, as were also all the rooms of the monastery and the academy, and all the congregation held branches of green in their hands, in allusion, it was said, to the tree under which Abraham entertained his three Spiritual Guests. After the hours had been read, the Bishop of Ekaterinoslav, who officiated, having been robed on his platform, the Archimandrite-Vicar and the Archimandrite-Rector of the Academy and some six or eight other priest-monks and deacons having vested within the iconostasis, went first two and two, and stood in two lines between the Bishop's ambo and the royal doors. They were in their high black caps, and cowls

[It is incidentally mentioned afterwards that, before parting for the night, the Archimandrite gave Mr. Palmer a good-sized piece of bread.]

falling down upon splendid dark red copes, with gold or yellow sticharia under them, the two Archimandrites and the Bishop wearing most richly-jewelled mitres. Then came in one after another on different sides the Archimandrites, to begin the Liturgy, and stood north and south of the altar. After the communion, when they took the blest bread to those who had communicated, the Archimandrites sent me one of the five Prosphoræ, from which the Oblation and the Commemoration particles had been taken; it was that of the Blessed Virgin. After the conclusion of the Liturgy, a clerk brought in a great dishful of bunches of flowers, and gave a bunch to each of them in order, which they held in their hands, others being laid all round the altar. Then the bells sounded again, and they began None and Vespers, with remarkable kneelings and long prayers, said westward towards. the people at three several times, for the outpouring of the Holy Spirit on the living and for the departed. This has been the custom now for many ages, and the Vespers were always said on this day earlier than usual, it being forbidden to break the fast till after they were concluded, on account of the solemn prayers just mentioned. By the present arrangement all was finished by noon, so as to cause no postponement of dinner, to which we went almost immediately on leaving the

church.

WE

CHAPTER CVI.

Dinner of the Troitsa Festival.

E dined that day in the great refectory or trapeza, a noble hall in size and style of architecture something like that of Christ Church, Oxford, but I think larger. It is splendidly ornamented, and has segments of arches concealing the square tops of the windows, which were very deep in the wall. It forms the nave of a moderate-sized church named after St. Sergius himself, on the south side of the precinct. You go up to it from without by steps and pass through an open porch, and another covered porch, before entering it. The tables are arranged just as the hall of one of our own colleges, the high table running across at the eastern end of the trapeza, where it opens by doors into the church properly so called, so that on entering from the west, one looked through them straight up towards the sanctuary. At the high table, in the middle, sat the Archimandrites, the Archimandrite-Vicar as Superior present

on the inner side with his back to the hall, and looking eastward and towards the sanctuary; the Rector of the Spiritual Academy opposite to him; the monks in holy orders and guests on either side of them, fortyfour in all. On lower tables along the side walls were the monks who were not in orders, and probationers; beyond them, on other tables, the students. of the Spiritual Academy. Before coming up we had looked into another large room with a table set out for a large number of boys, perhaps of the school kept within the monastery.

of

On taking their seats every one crossed himself and bowed towards the sanctuary, then they sang the grace as usual. During a great part of the dinner a monk read at a lectern from the Life of St. Sergius. Glasses were set at each plate, as with us; in the middle of the table were set huge silver tankards of excellent mead, or of beer looking like porter, and quass. Wine, too, was handed round. There were several soups fish, hot and cold, and other dishes, all without meat. At the end of the dinner, the attendants, who seemed to be younger probationers, filled for each person a long glass of champagne; and, all rising, the Polychronia (health, long life, and a happy reign) was sung and drunk to the emperor. Lastly grace was sung admirably; and the Archimandrite-Vicar, going round to the east side of the table with one or two others, waved

a small piece of bread on a cloth or carpet, chanting at the same time, over a stand set in front of the royal doors, on which there was placed a silver cup of wine. He then put a particle into the cup, ate a particle, and drank a little of the wine; then the others did the same, it being taken to all who were at table in order. They said that this was the elevation of the Panagia, a ceremony in honour of the Blessed Virgin.1

During all this time the centre of the vast hall had filled with a motley and picturesque crowd of both sexes, and all ages and conditions, for the greater part pilgrims and peasants, with their leg-wrappers, bark shoes, wallets, and staves. Part of them seemed to be merely looking on and admiring the hall, or interested in the singing and the Polychronium (ad multos annos) for the Emperor; but a large portion was evidently listening to the reader, and pressed round the lectern to hear the Life of St. Sergius.

Then we left the hall, and visited the kitchen and bakehouse, and a court where 1500 poor strangers had just dined. They had consumed fifty pood of black bread. The monastery is bound to give refreshment to the number of 500 daily, if so many present themselves.

["In the Greek Horologion,' Venice, 1838, p. 121,” adds Mr. Palmer, “ there is a very circumstantial but very legendary account of the origin and meaning of this custom."]