Читать книгу Travels in the Steppes of the Caspian Sea, the Crimea, the Caucasus, &c - Xavier Hommaire de Hell - Страница 16

Table of Contents

AN EARTHQUAKE—LUDICROUS ANECDOTE—SLEDGING—SPORTING—DANGEROUS PASSAGE OF THE DNIEPR—THAW; SPRING-TIME—MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF THE LITTLE RUSSIANS—EASTER HOLIDAYS—THE CLERGY.

That same winter at 10 P.M. on the 11th of January, we had a smart shock of earthquake, but which happily did no mischief in that part of the steppes. We were seated at the whist table, when we were suddenly startled by a loud rolling noise, that seemed rapidly approaching us, and the cards dropped from our hands. The sound was like that of a large heavily-laden waggon rattling over the pavement. Scarcely two seconds after our first surprise the whole house received a sudden shock, that set all the furniture in motion, before the idea of an earthquake had occurred to our minds. This first shock was followed by another of longer duration, but less alarming character; it was like the undulation of the waves when they are seeking to recover their equilibrium. The whole house was filled with dismay, except the party in the drawing-room; with us surprise prevailed over fear, and we remained motionless as statues, whilst every one else was running out of doors. The earthquake, of which mention has been made in several journals, gave occasion to a ludicrous story that was related to us some days after.

One of the general's peasants, an old fellow whose conscience was no doubt burthened with some weighty sin, imagined when he felt his house dancing like a boat on the waves, that the devil in person was come to bid him prepare to accompany him to the bottomless pit. Tearing out his hair by the roots, bawling, roaring, and crossing himself, he begins to confess his sins aloud, and gives himself up to the most violent terror and despair. His wife, who was no less alarmed, accused her husband of all sorts of wickedness; the husband retorted on the wife, and the whole night was passed in unspeakable confusion. The day dawned, but brought no comfort to the unfortunate sinner, whose spirits were all in a ferment, like new wine. Fully assured that the devil would soon come and lay his claws on him, he had no thought of going to his daily work. His wife was equally regardless of her household cares; what was the use of her preparing the porridge, when she and her husband were sure of breakfasting with Lucifer? So there they sat, waiting the fatal moment, with an anxiety that would have petrified them at last, but for an unexpected incident. All the other peasants, probably having less on their consciences, had been a-field since dawn. The head man of the village missed Petrovitch and his wife; he waited for them some hours, and at last bent his steps towards their cabin, calculating as he went how many stripes of the knout he should administer to them for their unpardonable neglect of duty. He steps in, but no one seems to notice his presence. Petrovitch sits huddled together in a corner, staring before him with glassy eyes; whilst his wife, on her knees before a picture of St. Nicholas, never for a moment interrupts her crossings and lamentations. "Hallo! what's all this?" cries the overseer, "have you lost your wits, and don't you know that you ought to have been at work hours ago?" "Oh Ivan Ivanovitch, it's all over; I shall never work again." "Not work again, wont you? we shall see. Come, start, booby!" And down comes the knout on the back of the peasant, who receives the blows with the most stoical composure. "O beat me if you like; it's all the same. What signify a few blows more or less, when a body is going to be roasted with the fiends?" "What on earth do you mean?" said the puzzled overseer; "what has happened to you to make you talk such nonsense?" "Nonsense here, or nonsense there, I have had a warning in the night." Ivan now recollected the earthquake, and suspecting he had found a clue to the mystery, burst into a hearty fit of laughter. "Oh, you may laugh; but you don't know that I am a great sinner, and that the devil came last night to claim my soul." After amusing himself sufficiently with the man's terrors, the overseer had the utmost difficulty in convincing him that all the other houses had been shaken like his own, and that the devil had nothing to do with the matter.

Sledge driving is one of the greatest amusements of the Russian winter. The horses, stimulated by the cold, sweep with you over the plain with the most mettlesome impetuosity. In the twinkling of an eye, you have left behind you the whole surface of a frozen lake, measuring several versts in length. It is a downright steeplechase: the keenness of the air, the rapid motion, the shouts of the driver urging the willing steeds, the vast plain that seems to enlarge as you advance, all produce an intense excitement, and pleasurably dispel the torpor caused by the indolent life of the steppes. We frequently crossed the Dniepr in this manner, to drive about the streets of Kherson, where all the fashion of the neighbourhood rendezvous from noon to two o'clock. It is an exercise which has as much charm for the Russians as for foreigners; the smallest landowner, or the lowest clerk in a public office, though he earns but a few rubles a year, must have his sledge and his two horses, if he starves for it half the year. At the usual hour you may reckon more than a hundred sledges of every form, most of them covered with rich rugs and furs, chasing each other through the streets, and each containing a gentleman and lady, and a driver furred from head to foot. This sort of amusement is an admirable aid to coquetry. Nothing can be more fascinating than those female figures wrapped up in pelisses, and with their faces dimly seen through their blonde veils; appearing for an instant, and then vanishing into the vaporous atmosphere, followed by many a tender glance.

I must say a few words as to the field sports of the steppes. Shooting parties use a very long low carriage called a dolgushka, and accommodating more than fifteen persons seated back to back. The feet rest on a board on each side about a foot from the ground. Behind the driver is a large box for holding provisions and all the accoutrements of the sportsmen; and the game is received in another box fixed at the end of the carriage. Nothing can be more convenient for country parties. The dolgushka is drawn by four horses yoked abreast; birds are much less afraid of it than of a man on foot, and come near enough to allow the sportsman to shoot without alighting. Parties often amounting to many hundreds, both nobles and peasants, assemble for the pursuit of wolves, foxes, and hares. The usual scene of these hunts is a desert island belonging to General Potier. They begin by a general beating of the steppes, whereupon the wild animals cross the ice to the little island, thinking to be safe there from the balls of their pursuers; but their retreat is soon invaded. The hunters form a circle round the island, and then begins a slaughter that for some time clears the country of those sheep devourers. Two or three battues of this kind take place every year, chiefly for the purpose of destroying the wolves that come in flocks and carry dismay into the sheep-folds.

Among the peculiarities presented by the plains of the Black Sea, I must not omit to mention the extensive conflagrations that regularly take place in winter, and remind one of the scenes witnessed by many travellers in the prairies of America. In Russia, it is the inhabitants themselves who set fire to the steppes, thinking that by thus clearing away the withered herbage from the surface, they favour the growth of the new grass. But the flames being often driven by the winds in all directions, and over immense surfaces, now and then occasion great disasters; and there have been instances in which sheep-folds and whole flocks have been consumed.

The thaw begins on the Dniepr, about the end of March. It is preceded by dull cracklings and muffled sounds, giving token that the river is awakening from its long icy sleep, and is about to burst its prison. All communication between the farms and Kherson is interrupted for more than six weeks; posts of Cossacks stationed along the banks, give notice of the danger of crossing; but as the temperature is continually changing at that season, the final break-up does not take place for a long while.

At the beginning of the thaw we persisted in going to Kherson, in opposition to all advice. When we came to the banks of the Dniepr and manifested our intention of crossing, all the boatmen stared at us in amazement, and not one of them would let us hire his sledge. We were therefore about to give up our project, when we saw two or three gentlemen coming towards us on foot across the Dniepr, followed by an empty sledge. They told us that the river was partially clear of ice opposite Kherson, and that it would be extremely dangerous to attempt crossing in a sledge. They had left Kherson at six in the morning, (it was then ten) and had been all that time engaged in effecting their passage. They united with the boatmen in dissuading us from undertaking such a journey, the danger of which was now the greater, inasmuch as the sun had acquired much power since the morning; but all was of no avail; their sledge which they placed at our disposal decided the business, and we embarked gaily, preceded by a boatman, whom our example had encouraged, and who was to sound the ice before us. A glowing sun streamed over the vast sheet of ice, raising from it a bluish vapour, which the driver and the guide watched with lively anxiety. Notwithstanding their looks of uneasiness we pushed on rapidly, and the boatman was oftener on the sledge than in advance of it. By and by, however, the sounds of cracking ice growing more and more frequent, rather cast a gloom over our imaginations, and made us begin to fear that we should meet with more serious obstacles further on. We saw the ice melting in some degree beneath the rays of the sun, and gradually parting from the shores of the islands we were coasting; and what still more augmented our uneasiness, was the elasticity of the ice, which bent very visibly under the motion of our sledge. Its gradual rise and fall seemed like the breathing of the river, becoming more and more distinct as the ice diminished in thickness. As our guide still continued to advance, we had no other course than to follow him, and so we came to an arm of the Dniepr, which is much dreaded on account of its current, the rapidity of which does not allow the ice to acquire much solidity even in the most intense frosts. We all proceeded to cross it on foot, each maneuvering as best he could on a surface as smooth as a mirror. At last, notwithstanding our zigzags, our tumbles, and the splitting of the ice, we found ourselves safe over the perilous passage, very much delighted at having escaped so well, and at feeling solid ground under our feet. We had then more than two versts to travel over an island, before we came to the branch of the river opposite Kherson. With the utmost confidence, then, we seated ourselves once more in the sledge, and bounded away at full speed over a soft surface of snow melting rapidly in the sun. But it is always when the mind is most at ease, that accidents seem to take a malicious pleasure in surprising us. A wide crevice, which the driver had not time to avoid, suddenly yawned athwart our course; the sledge was immediately upset, and we were all pitched out. My husband, who was seated on the top of the baggage, was quite stunned by the blow; the driver and the guide, who were thrown a considerable distance from the sledge, remained motionless likewise; and as for me, I found myself rolled up in my pelisse in the middle of a bush. When I cast a look on my companions in misfortune, they were beginning to stir and to feel themselves all over. They seemed in no hurry to get up, and they cut such piteous figures, that I could not help laughing most heartily. Notwithstanding our bruises we were soon on our legs, with the certainty that none of our bones were broken. The driver limped back to his seat, in great amazement at not receiving a severe castigation for his awkwardness. Had this mishap occurred to Russians, the poor fellow would not have escaped with less than a sound drubbing. We were more magnanimous, and imputed wholly to fortune an accident which, indeed, could not easily have been avoided.

Our journey continued without much to alarm us, until we were just about to commit ourselves to the wide arm of the Dniepr, that still lay between us and the town. Its surface presented an appearance that was really frightful. Enormous banks of ice were beginning to move, and had already left a great part of the river exposed. Besides this, the ice that still remained fixed, was so intersected with clefts, that we could not advance without serious danger. Our position was becoming more and more critical, and we were thinking of returning to the island we had just left, and waiting until a boat could take us across to Kherson; but as there would probably have been as much risk in returning as in proceeding, we continued our route but with the utmost caution. The first glow of exulting boldness was over, and we sorely regretted our temerity. The floor that separated us from the waters seemed so treacherous, that we every moment despaired of escape. This state of perplexity lasted more than an hour; but at last we reached the vessels that were ice-locked at some distance from the harbour. We were now in safety, and we finished our perilous expedition in a boat.

Two days afterwards a southerly wind had almost completely swept away the immense sheet of ice that for so many months had imprisoned the waters of the Dniepr. The thaw took place so rapidly, that the river was free before any one could have noted the progress of its deliverance. In eight days there was not a vestige of ice, and we returned to Clarofka, without experiencing any of the emotions we had felt on our first rash and picturesque expedition. But this mild weather, very unusual in the month of March, soon gave place to sharp frosts, which renewed the winter mantle of the Dniepr, and did not entirely cease until the beginning of April. At this season the steppes begin to be clothed with a magnificent vegetation, and in a few days they have the appearance of a boundless meadow, full of thyme, hyacinths, tulips, pinks, and an infinity of other wild flowers of great sweetness and beauty. Thousands of larks nestle in the grass, and carol everywhere over the traveller's head. The sea, too, partakes in the common gladness of the general season. Its shells are more beautiful and more numerous; its hues are more varied, and its murmurs gentler. Plants and animals seem all in haste to live and reproduce their kind, as if they foresaw the brief duration of these pleasant days. Elsewhere, summer is often but a continuation of spring; fresh blossoms come forth, and nature retains her vital power for a long period; but here a fortnight or three weeks are enough to change the vernal freshness of the landscape into a sun-burnt waste. In all these countries there are really but two seasons; you pass from intense cold to a Senegal heat; without the body having time to accustom itself to this sudden change of temperature. The sea-breezes alone make it possible to endure the heat which in July and August almost always amounts to 94° or 95°.

The thing to which the stranger finds it most difficult to accustom his eyes in Russia, is the horrible sheep-skins in which men, women, and children are muffled at all times of the year. These half-tanned skins, which are worn with the wool inwards, give them a savage appearance, which is increased in the men by the long beard and moustaches they invariably wear. Yet there are handsome faces to be seen among the Russian peasants, and in this respect Nature has been much more liberal to the men than to the women, who are generally very ugly. The dress of the latter consists in a shift with wide sleeves, fitting tight round the throat, and trimmed with coloured cotton, and a petticoat fastened below the bosom. Instead of a petticoat, girls commonly wear a piece of woollen stuff, which laps across in front, without forming a single plait, and is fastened by a long, narrow scarf, embroidered at the ends. Their legs are quite bare, and any rather sudden movement may open their singular garment more than is consistent with decorum. On holidays they add to their ordinary attire a large muslin cap, and an apron of the same material, adorned with a wide flounce. Their hair is tied up with ribands, into two tresses, that fall on their shoulders, or are twisted into a crown on the top of the head. When they marry, they cease to wear their hair uncovered; a handkerchief of a glaring colour is then their usual head-dress. We are now speaking only of the women of Little Russia; but those of Great Russia retain the national costume called serafine, which is very picturesque, and is still worn at court on special occasions.

The women of Little Russia, accustomed to field labour from their childhood, and usually marrying at the age of fifteen or sixteen, are old before they have reached their thirtieth year; indeed, one can hardly say when they cease to be young, since they never exhibit the bloom of youth. Whether a Russian woman's age be fifteen, twenty, or thirty, it is all one in the end. Immediately after childhood, her limbs are as masculine, her features as hard, her skin as tanned, and her voice as rough as at a more advanced age. So much has been written about the relaxed morals and the drunkenness of the Russian peasants, that we need not dwell on the subject. We shall only say that their deplorable passion for strong liquors, is continually on the increase, and that most of the young women are as much addicted to them as the old. It frequently happens that a peasant and his wife go on Sunday to a kabak, drench themselves with brandy, and on their way back fall dead drunk into some gully, where they pass the whole night without being aware of their change of domicile.

A fondness for dancing is another distinguishing characteristic of this people. You often see a party of both sexes assemble after work, and continue dancing all the evening. The Ruthenians are remarkable for their gaiety and extreme indifference to worldly cares. Leaving to their masters the whole trouble of providing for their lodging and maintenance, they never concern themselves about the future. Their tasks once ended, they think only of repose, and seldom entertain any idea of working for themselves. When you pass through their villages, you never see the peasants busy in repairing their hedges, cultivating their gardens, mending their implements, or doing any thing else that bespeaks any regard for domestic comforts. No—the Russian works only because he is forced to do so; when he returns from his labour, he stretches himself out to sleep on his stove, or goes and gets drunk at the next kabak. A curious custom I have noticed in Southern Russia, and which is common to all classes, is that of chewing the seeds of the melon or the sunflower, from morning till night. In order to indulge this taste, every one dries in the sun the seeds of all the melons he eats during the summer, and puts by his stock for the winter. I have seen many wives of pometchiks (landowners) pass their whole day in indulging this queer appetite.

In Russia, as in all imperfectly civilised countries, religious ceremonies still retain all their ancient influence. They afford the peasant a season of pleasure and emancipation, that makes him for a moment forget his thraldom, to revel in intoxication. Full of superstition, and indolent to an extreme degree, he longs impatiently for the interval of relaxation that allows him to indulge his favourite propensities. For him the whole sum and substance of every religious festival consists in cessation from toil, and in outward practices of devotion that bear a strong impress of gross idolatry. The Russian thinks he perfectly understands and fulfils his religion, if he makes innumerable signs of the cross and genuflections before the smoky picture that adorns his isbas, and scrupulously observes those two commandments of the Church, to fast and make lenten fare. His conscience is then quite at ease, even though it should be burdened with the most atrocious crimes. Theft, drunkenness, and even murder, excite in him much less horror than the mere idea of breaking fast or eating animal food on Friday.

Nothing can exceed the depravity of the Russian clergy; and their ignorance is on a par with their vicious propensities. Most of the monks and priests pass their lives in disgraceful intoxication, that renders them incapable of decently discharging their religious duties. The priestly office is regarded in Russia, not as a sacred calling, but as a means of escaping from slavery and attaining nobility. The monks, deacons, and priests, that swarm in the churches and monasteries, are almost all sons of peasants who have entered the Church, that they may no longer be liable to the knout, and above all to the misfortune of being made soldiers. But though thereby acquiring the right to plunder the serfs, and catechise them after their own fashion, they cannot efface the stain of their birth, and they continue to be regarded by the nobility with that sovereign disdain which the latter profess for all who are not sprung from their own caste. The great and the petty nobles are perfectly agreed in this respect, and it is not uncommon to see a pometshik raise his hand to strike a pope, whilst the latter humbly bows his head to receive the chastisement. This resignation, which would be exemplary if it were to be ascribed to evangelical humility, is here but the result of the base and crouching character of the slave, of which the Russian priest cannot divest himself, even in the midst of the highest functions of his spiritual life.

The appearance of the popes provokes equal disgust and astonishment. To see those men, whose neglected beards, besotted faces, and filthy dress, indicate a total want of all decent self-respect, it is impossible to persuade oneself that such persons can be apostles of the divine word. As usual in the Greek Church, they are all married and have large families. You may look in vain in their dwellings for any indication of their sacred character. A few coarsely-coloured pictures of saints, and a few books flung into a corner of the room, in which the whole family are huddled together, are the only marks of the profession exercised by the master of the house. As they receive nothing from the state, it is the unfortunate serfs who must support their establishments, and even supply them with the means of indulging their gluttony and drunkenness. It is particularly on the eve of a great Church festival, that the Russian priest is sure of an abundant harvest of poultry, eggs, and meal. Easter is the most remarkable of these festivals, and lasts a whole week. During the preceding seven weeks of Lent, the Russian must not eat either eggs, meat, fish, oil, butter, or cheese. His diet consists only of salted cucumbers, boiled vegetables, and different kinds of porridge. The fortitude with which he endures so long a penance, proves the mighty influence which religious ideas possess over such rude minds. During the last few days that precede the festival, he is not allowed to take any food before sunset, and then it may be fairly admitted that brandy is a real blessing for him.

It is impossible to imagine all the discussions that take place between the popes and the peasants on these occasions. As the Russian must then fulfil his religious duties, whether he will or not, he is at the mercy of the priest, who of course makes him pay as dearly as he can for absolution, and keeps a regular tariff, in which offences and punishments are set down with minute precision. Thus for a theft, so many dozens of eggs; for breach of a fast, so many chickens, &c. If the serf is refractory, the punishment is doubled, and nothing can save him from it. The thought of complaining to his lord of the pope's extortionate cupidity never enters his head; for assuredly, if he were to adopt such a course, he would think himself damned to all eternity.

As long as the holidays last, the lords keep open table, and every one is free to enter and take part in the banquet. Such was the practice of the knias (princes) and boyards of old, who lived as sovereigns in their feudal mansions, and extended their hospitality to all strangers, without distinction of country or lineage. Many travellers allege that this patriarchal custom still prevails in some families of Great Russia. But here, except on gala days, most of the pometshiks live in such a shabby style, as gives but a poor idea of their means or of their dispositions.

To return to our Easter holidays: the last week of Lent is employed in making an immense quantity of cakes, buns, and Easter bread, and in staining eggs with all sorts of colours. A painter was brought expressly from Kherson to our entertainer's mansion for this purpose, and he painted more than 1000 eggs, most of them adorned with cherubims, fat-cheeked angels, virgins, and all the saints in paradise. The whole farm was turned topsy-turvy, the work was interrupted, and the steward's authority suspended. Every one was eager to assist in the preparations for merry making; some put up the swings, others arranged the ball-room; some were intent on their devotions, others half-smothered themselves in the vapour baths, which are one of the most favourite indulgences of the Russian people: all in short were busy in one way or other. A man with a barrel organ had been engaged for a long while beforehand, and when he arrived every face beamed with joy. The Russians are passionately fond of music. Often in the long summer evenings, after their tasks are ended, they sit in a circle and sing with a precision and harmony that evince a great natural aptitude for music. Their tunes are very simple and full of melancholy; and as their plaintive strains are heard rising at evening from some lonely spot in the midst of the desert plain, they often produce emotions, such as more scientific compositions do not always awaken.

At last Easter day was come. In the morning we were greatly surprised to find our sitting-room filled with men who were waiting for us, and were meanwhile refreshing themselves with copious potations of brandy. The evening before we had been sent two bottles of that liquor, and a large basket of cakes and painted eggs, but without any intimation of the use they were to be put to; but we at once understood the meaning of this measure, when we saw all these peasants in their Sunday trim, and a domestic serving out drink to them, by way I suppose of beguiling the time until we made our appearance.

The moment my husband entered the room, all those red-bearded fellows surrounded him, and each with great gravity presented him with a painted egg, accompanying the gift with three stout kisses. In compliance with the custom of the country my husband had to give each of them an egg in return, and a glass of brandy, after first putting it to his own lips. But the ceremony did not end there: Kooda barinya? kooda barinya? (where is madame), nadlegit (it must be so), and so I was forced to come among them and receive my share of the eggs and embraces. During all Easter week the peasant has a right to embrace whomsoever he pleases, not even excepting the emperor and the empress. This is a relic of the old patriarchal manners which prevailed so long unaltered all over northern Europe. In Russia, particularly, where extremes meet, the peasant to this day addresses the czar with thou and thee, and calls him father in speaking to him.

When we had got rid of these queer visitors we repaired to the parlour, where the morning repast was served up with a profusion worthy of the times of Pantagruel. In the centre of the table stood a sucking pig flanked with small hams, German sausages, chitterlings, black puddings, and large dishes of game. A magnificent pie containing at least a dozen hares, towered like a fortress at one end of the table, and seemed quite capable of sustaining the most vehement onslaught of the assailants. The sondag and the sterlet, those choice fish of Southern Russia, garnished with aromatic herbs, betokened the vicinity of the sea. Imagine, in addition to all these things, all sorts of cordial waters, glass vases filled with preserves, and a multitude of sponge cake castles, with their platforms frosted and heaped with bonbons, and the reader will have an idea of the profuse good cheer displayed by the Russian lords on such occasions.

General Potier, surrounded by all his household retinue, and by some other guests, impatiently awaited the arrival of the pope, whose benediction was an indispensable preliminary to the banquet. He arrived at ten o'clock precisely, accompanied by a monk, and began to chant a hallelujah, walking two or three times round the table; then blessing each dish separately, he concluded by bravely attacking the sucking pig, to the best part of which he helped himself. This was the signal to begin; every one laid hold on what he liked without ceremony; the pie, the hams, and the fish, all vanished. For more than a quarter of an hour nothing was to be heard but a continual noise of knives and forks, jaws munching, and glasses hobnobbing. The pope set a bright example, and his rubicund face fully declared the pleasure he took in fulfilling such functions of his office.

The Russians in general are remarkable for gluttony, such as perhaps is without a parallel elsewhere. The rudeness of their climate and their strong digestive powers would account for this. They make five meals daily, and those so copious and substantial that one of them would alone be amply sufficient for an inhabitant of the south.

During the repast a choir of girls stood before the windows and sang several national airs in a very pleasing style; after which they received the usual gratuity of nuts with tokens of the liveliest glee. The Russians are strict observers of all ancestral customs, and Easter would be no Easter for them if it came without eggs or nuts.

On leaving the breakfast table we proceeded to the place where the sports were held; but there I saw nothing of that hearty merriment that elsewhere accompanies a popular holiday. The women, in their best attire, clung to the swings, I will not say gracefully, but very bodily, and in a manner to shame the men, who found less pleasure in looking at them than in gorging themselves with brandy in their smoky kabaks. Others danced to the sound of the organ with cavaliers, whose zigzag movements told of plenteous libations. Some old women nearly dead drunk went from one group to another singing obscene songs, and falling here and there in the middle of the road, without any one thinking of picking them up.

We noticed on this occasion an essential characteristic of the Russian people. In this scene of universal drunkenness there was no quarrelling; not a blow was struck. Nothing can rouse the Russians from their apathy; nothing can quicken the dull current of their blood; they are slaves even in drink.

Next day we went to dine with one of the general's neighbours, who gave us a most sumptuous reception. Before we sat down to table, we were shown into a small room with a side-board loaded with cold meat, caviar, salted cucumbers, and liqueurs, all intended to whet our appetites. This collation, which the Russians call sagouska, always precedes their meals; they are not content with their natural appetite, but have recourse to stimulants that they may the better perform their parts at table.

All the time of dinner we were entertained by a choir of forty young men who sang some fine harmonised pieces, and some Cossack airs that pleased us much. Our entertainer was one of the richest landowners in New Russia, and his manner of living partakes of many of the old national usages. His musicians are slaves taught by an Italian long attached to the establishment in the capacity of chapel master.

Such are the Easter festivities. As the reader will perceive, they consist on the whole in eating and drinking inordinately. The whole week is spent in this way, and during all that time the authority of the master is almost in abeyance; the coachman deserts the stables, the cook the kitchen, the housekeeper her store-room; all are drunk, all are merry-making, all are intent on enjoying a season of liberty so long anticipated with impatience.

The rejoicings in the town are of the same character. The katchellni, a sort of fair lasting three days, brings together all classes of society. The nobles and the government servants ride about in carriages, but the populace amuse themselves just as they do in the country, only they have the pleasure of getting drunk in better company.