Sunday morning I paid a visit to the church, the exterior of which was under repair. The two great silver crosses on the towers flashed in the sun. There were about half-a-dozen people seated in the great body of the church, formed by the four wings. The high walls are covered with dark, rough deals, on which there are some strange ornamentations in red and green. But where is the clergyman ? Twist your neck, so that the line of sight forms an angle with the horizon of 45°, and you will see, high above the altar, a little, barrel-shaped pulpit, and in this the head and shoulders of the parson. He wears a fur coat and cap, a little white " bib " alone indicating his dignity. He preaches in the peculiar Finnish tongue, the many "ä's" of which impart to it a very strange sonorousness. But what has become of the parson ? In the middle of the sermon he has suddenly disappeared in the barrel ; in about a minute he re appears, and continues where he left off. This is one of the prescribed forms of the Finnish ritual. Then an attempt is made to sing a hymn, previous to which a figure clad in furs, sitting to the right of the altar, has attached the number to a moveable disk. This over, the parson proceeds with his drawling address. Such is a Finnish church service.
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