At the conclusion of the reading they all crossed themselves devoutly half a dozen times in succession, and after asking them the decisive question the priest gave them each a silver ring.  Then came more reading, at the end of which he administered to them a teaspoonful of wine out of a cup.  Reading and chanting were again resumed and continued for a long time, the bridegroom and bride crossing and prostrating themselves continually, and the deacon closing up his responses by repeating with the most astounding rapidity, fifteen times in five seconds, the words “Gaspodi pomilui” (goss’-po-dee-po-mee’-loo-ee), “God have mercy upon us.”  He then brought in two large gilt crowns ornamented with medallions, and, blowing off the dust which had accumulated upon them since the last wedding, he placed them upon the heads of the bridegroom and bride.

The young Cossack’s crown was altogether too large, and slipped down over his head like a candle-extinguisher until it rested upon his ears, eclipsing his eyes entirely.  The bride’s hair—­or rather the peculiar manner in which it was “done up”—­precluded the possibility of making a crown stay on her head, and an individual from among the spectators was detailed to hold it there.  The priest then made the couple join hands, seized the groom’s hand himself, and they all began a hurried march around the altar—­the priest first, dragging along the Cossack, who, blinded by the crown, was continually stepping on his leader’s heels; the bride following the groom, and trying to keep the crown from pulling her hair down; and lastly, the supernumerary stepping on the bride’s dress and holding the gilt emblem of royalty in its place.  The whole performance was so indescribably ludicrous that I could not possibly keep my countenance in that sober frame which befitted the solemnity of the occasion, and nearly scandalised the whole assembly by laughing out loud.  Three times they marched in this way around the altar, and the ceremony was then ended.  The bride and groom kissed the crowns reverently as they took them off, walked around the church, crossing themselves and bowing in succession before each of the pictures of saints which hung against the wall, and at last turned to receive the congratulations of their friends.  It was expected of course that the “distinguished Americans,” of whose intelligence, politeness, and suavity so much had been heard would congratulate the bride upon this auspicious occasion; but at least one distinguished but unfortunate American did not know how to do it.  My acquirements in Russian were limited to “Yes,” “No,” and “How do you do?” and none of these expressions seemed fully to meet the emergency.  Desirous, however, of sustaining the national reputation for politeness, as well as of showing my good-will to the bride, I selected the last of the phrases as probably the most appropriate, and walking solemnly, and I fear awkwardly, up I asked the bride with a very low bow, and in very bad Russian—­how