by no written law, but only by the traditions of centuries) to but one portion of land, she will no more expect to be allotted the strictly accurate share due to her son than will the mother of a large family of small male children expect, or desire, to have apportioned to her a large tract of land which she and her babies may be entitled to, but could not possibly cultivate. It may be inferred from the above facts that the periodical meetings of the Mir for the re-distribution of communal lands are functions marked by considerable animation and occasionally some warmth of argument.

cows have passed out of the street on their way to the communal pasturage, so we can resume our tour of inspection. Along both sides of the one street which runs through the village stand the peasants' huts. These are nearly all alike, only in different stages of decay. There is hardly one which does not present some sign of incipient ruin, neither are there any two huts facing the same way. Some offer a full front to the street, others turn their backs upon the world, some push forward an angle, as though shy of being seen at full face; the general impression given by the haphazard array of ruinous habitations being, that they had been brought to the locality en masse, and set down "anyhow," pro tem., and that they had not possessed the energy to set themselves straight, but had preferred to remain as originally placed. Each hut possesses a yard which is knee-deep in mud and filth, and in which may be obtained a

The fields alongside of which we pass, as we proceed towards the village, are all divided into long strips, each strip being the property of one moujik. The consequence of this arrangement is that occasionally a large hayfield may be seen with one strip in the centre devoted to oats, or vice versa; another field may be divided into plots of all sorts of grain or pota- glimpse of an open shed, wherein are toes; while a third may present an un-stored sledges, ploughs, manure-carts, broken expanse of waving oats. As a rule each peasant owns several strips of land, situated in different parts of the commune; thus, not only the quantity but also the quality of the land is considered in the equitable distribution of the common property which the moujiks effect for themselves and each other.

But here we are at the village itself and in the midst of the village street. The cows are coming up the centre of it, a wide phalanx with straggling wings; there is no room for us. The cows evidently consider us de trop, for they march along without regard to the fact that we too need a modicum of We are obliged to take refuge space. within a yard whose gate is opportunely open, an action on our part furiously resented by first one dog and then a whole pack of dogs, which approach with every intention, apparently, of tearing us limb from limb. I soon learn, however, that one need but bend to pick up a stone, and before one's back has straightened itself there is not a village dog in sight. Now the

and agricultural implements, all of which property appears to be, like the houses themselves, in the last stage of decay.

The cottages consist of one room and a garret, some few possessing a second room, which appears to be given over to poultry and dogs, together with odds and ends such as snowshoes, firewood, and empty bottles. There is scarcely a hut which can boast of an entire window; at least one of the small panes of glass is invariably absent, the vacuum being filled up with part of an old cotton dress, which is bunched into it in the best way that the lady of the house can get it to stick, without regard to appearances. Somewhere about the outer wall of each house will be found a rough picture designed to represent either a ladder or bucket, or a coil of rope. This mysterious sign is intended to indicate what part the proprietor is bound to play in case of fire in the village, and what article he is expected to supply towards the work of extinguishing the flames.

It is not a pleasant experience to

enter Ivan Ivanovitch's home, for if the victuals are not "up to much,” but

that, such as they are, you are welcome
to a share. Madam informs us that,
this being the anniversary of Saint-
somebody, Ivan is not at work, but, as
usual, at the kabák.

"How came you to marry such a
as your husband? "
asks my
companion, with a bluntness which
surprises and shocks
me. Avdotia
Egorevna is not in the least discon-
certed, however, by this very plain
question. "Oh," she says, "I didn't
choose him, of course; my parents did
that for me. I hated him at first, but
now I'm rather fond of the poor old
vodka bottle."

there is one thing in the world that
Ivan cordially dislikes and banishes, it
is fresh air within the house. He loves
to have his room reeking with heat and
frowsiness. He will not open his win-
dow if he can help it, however warm
the weather. It is a special dispen-man
sation of Providence, or a beautiful
provision of nature, that Ivan is occa-
sionally-nay, frequently, drunk and
breaks one of his windows. Were this
not so he and his family would un-
doubtedly be asphyxiated. Though the
room we now enter has two panes
broken, the atmosphere is hardly sup-
portable. The room is of good size,
but a large portion of it is occupied by a What divine particle, I wondered,
huge stove of plastered brick. When had this good woman discovered in her
the weather is cold this stove is hot drunken, swearing, bullying partner to
day and night, and Ivan and his family cause her to change her opinion of
sleep on the top of it, where there is him! Truly the ways of woman are
accommodation for half-a-dozen, at a mysterious. Avdotia, as she finishes
pinch. Round the walls runs a narrow
bench, and in one corner is a table.
At this table sits the lady of the house
taking her dinner, which consists of a
slice of black bread with plenty of salt.
The children prefer to eat their share
outside, in the road. As for Ivan him-
self, he is feasting upon a salt herring
at the kabák; salt herrings are thirsty
fare and require the assistance of co-
pious libations of vodka, therefore the
kabák is a handier place in which to
eat it than his own apartment. Be-
sides, Gavril Nicolaievitch is obliging
with a tune on the garmonka, and no
Russian will stir from the spot where a
garmonka is playing.

her short speech, actually has a tear in
her eye. I determine on the spot that
Avdotia is a good sort," and present
her with a rouble - a mark of admira-
tion which she immensely appreciates,
dashing away the tear with the back of
her hand and beaming all over, as she
expresses her hope that "God will give
me health.”

a

There are her children outsidelittle boy with grimy face, and nothing but a short print shirt to clothe his small brown person, and two tiny girls, in print dresses down to their toes; all three munching large lumps of black bread, and playing at some game which appears to resemble "knuckle-bones." Mrs. Ivan greets us with a bow and a | Avdotia informs us, in reply to our smile, showing a set of splendid teeth question as to whether the share of as she does so. She is a pretty woman, land apportioned to her husband is but somewhat worn and tired-looking; sufficient to support the family, that her life is not an easy one, for besides they manage to live, one way and anher domestic duties and the care of her other, thanks to the town being so children, she takes her share of work close; were it otherwise, she does not in the fields, and, since her husband is think that the land would keep them. a bit of a drunkard, occasionally does "Life is very hard, Barin," she says. his share as well as her own. Hlyeb" We have a horse and two cows (glory da soil!" ("Bread and salt!") is our to God !), but they must be fed through greeting to this lady; it is the Russian the winter, and that takes all our hay equivalent for "Good appetite to you!" and oats, for the soil is not good here. She replies, "Meelostye prosem !" ("We Then we have a little rye for our own beg your charity !") which implies that bread, but not enough. There is the

66

C

around.

We

we look

milk (glory to thee, Lord!), but it | least probable of all, customers? fetches a very low price, though it is order some tea, however, as an excuse good milk. See, Barin, meelostye pro- for our descent upon his premises, and sem try a little" (we did so, and found endeavor to tolerate the awful atmoit excellent); "and Ivan gets jobs with sphere of the place while the horse, carting sand to town, and driving Barins down to the country houses beyond here; but the kabák is the fly which sucks our blood; if there were no kabák we might be rich." Poor Avdotia, she speaks for many millions of poor women throughout the czar's dominions; it is always the same tale : "but for the kabák we might be

happy!"

Some of the moujiks are remarkably good-looking fellows, in spite of the somewhat tipsy expression most of them are wearing at this moment; they have good eyes, and thoughtful, sunburned faces, not a few boasting of fine long beards. Many of them wear nothing but a cotton shirt, a pair of loose cotton trousers, and the usual But where are the "souls" all this long boots, into which the trousers are time? for Avdotia is not, of course, a tucked. The shirt is belted at the soul; being a woman she has no claim waist, and worn, as already mentioned, to that distinction. I fear we shall outside the nether garments. Some find most of the souls in the village were playing at cards, quarrelling gooddrinking-shop towards which we now naturedly and tipsily over each deal. bend our steps. There is one house in One almost sober “soul” was intent the centre of the village which boasts upon his garmonka, or square concerof two stories and looks more imposing, tina, from which he produced really though not less dirty and ruinous, than wonderful results so far as the melody its neighbors; this is the kabák. A was concerned; as to the bass, the greasy and begrimed swing-door opens garmonka being limited to two chords, into the midst of the pandemonium. his imagination was necessarily hamHere are the souls in all their glory! pered. The tea served to us was weak Here we see the curse of Russia im- but of excellent quality, slices of lemon personified. Half-a-dozen moujiks are taking the place of milk or cream. lying about the floor quite drunk; a Small lumps of sugar were handed to dozen others are in varying stages of us, and these we were expected to use intoxication; a few are still fairly à la Russe, that is, not to drop them sober, and two or three are drinking into the cup or tumbler, but to nibble tea. Among these last is Stepán them before each sip of tea. Stepán Abramitch, the proprietor. This man came over to us and entered into conis observable among the crowd of versation. He explained that he was moujiks because, unlike them, he the "universal provider" of the place, wears his shirt European fashion, not and that in the room corresponding to outside his trousers as do the moujiks. this one on the other side of the house If the Russian proverb is true then he traded in calico prints, shirts, boots, Stepáu is not to be trusted, for the say- black bread, gaudy handkerchiefs, caning runs that a Russian remains honest dles, sweets, salted herrings, and ikons. so long as he wears his shirt outside his This, he explained, comprised about all trousers; as soon as he hides away that the Russian peasant ever purhis shirt-tails, away go the qualities of chased. With his usual bluntness my truthfulness and honesty with them. companion inquired whether Stepán's Stepán looks sleek and well fed, as, no conscience never gave him a bad quardoubt, he is, for he fattens upon the ter of an hour over the part he played substance of the community. All the in the ruin of these poor tipsy money earned in Drevno goes one way, "souls"? But Stepán's conscience and that is into the coffers of Stepán was altogether void of offence. If he Abramitch. He does not like the look did not run the kabák, he explained, of us; are we spies, secret police, or, some one else undoubtedly would.

enue

The moujiks would not tolerate the | if he chooses, tilt out into one hand and absence of their beloved haunt for a pass over his face; but, as a rule, Ivan single week, and besides that, it would does not choose. never suit the government if the kabáks their principal source of revwere to give up business. Besides all this again, said Stepán, "I am very good to them; there is hardly a man or woman in the village who does not owe me money, but I never press them, as another might, and get hold of their land." Poor Drevno, poor Russia! it is even as Stepán said. To explain the situation in a few words: if the moujik drinks, he supports the State, but ruins himself; if he remains sober, he can support himself, but he ruins the State.

That house there belongs to the starost, or elected elder of the village community or Mir. His duties are to preside over the meetings of that body. He is elected for a term of two or three years, and is the responsible agent to government for the payment of the taxes due by the community. The position involves considerable responsibility and no little trouble, while the stipend attached is but a few roubles and a medal ; so that the title of starost is not, as a rule, competed for with any conspicuous degree of keenness; in many villages the honor is carefully avoided and only accepted under compulsion.

"The house on the right," says Ivan, with some pride, some pride, "belongs to my brother, who is the richest man in the village. He has five grown-up sous, and therefore a large amount of land, four good horses, and six cows; he lives well."

Three of his are laborers, and most of their wages come home. As for the land, my brother and his two sons and their wives can easily cultivate it. Ah, Barin, it's a great thing for us moujiks to have grown-up sons!" Ivan's remarks were true enough. The large family in a Russian village is a co-operative concern and pays well.

Out into the road again, and not too soon, for the atmosphere is beginning to tell upon us. The village dogs again consider it incumbent upon them to charge open-mouthed upon us, and once again the simple threat of a pebble is sufficient to put them to ignominious flight. A half-drunken moujik has accompanied us from the kabák, and is determined to act as our guide. "Does he drink?" we inquire. This turns out to be Avdotia's husband, "Of course he does," says Ivan, Ivan. He takes us to the village bath-" "hard, on holidays; but he is a good house, a tumble-down, smoke-black-worker; and with five sons one can ened hut, dark as pitch within and spare two or three to work in town. dirty beyond the wildest flights of fancy. On Saturdays this is a busy spot. The stove is alight then, and the "souls" take their turn at the steambath h; no water is used, except for the purpose of generating steam. Ivan explains that the "patient" lies upon one of the shelves running round the room, which is full of scalding steam, and that a companion then flogs the air within an eighth of an inch of his body, driving the steam well into the pores of his skin. Ivan declares that this is better than washing; but after a careful scrutiny of our friend's face and neck we decide that unless Ivan has missed his turn at the steam-bath for a year or so, water must, on the whole, do the thing more thoroughly. The moujik rarely washes during the week, though each hut has a kind of small teapot hung at the porch; this contains a drop or two of water which Ivan can,

The rich man's house was no better than its neighbors. It presented the same appearance of decay and age; there was no indication of the prosperity of its owner beyond the fact that there appeared to be more accommodation in the yard for live stock.

"Is your rich brother at work today?" we asked.

İvan made a tipsily comical gesture of horror; he spat upon the ground with unnecessary vehemence and then crossed himself.

The Barin is pleased to joke," he

said;
his sons are not sinners, they do not
work on a holiday; they are all at the
kabák, as they should be!"
"Drunk?" I ventured.

"it is a holiday; my brother and looking; they appeared to be perfectly happy in their holiday occupation of parading the village street singing. Fortunately the drink demon does not possess the unmarried women of the villages; they never touch vodka. The matrons occasionally drink, but, in comparison with their lords, they are rarely to be seen intoxicated.

66 Drunk, Barin, certainly!" Ivan. "Why, what would

have?"

said

you

Not being prepared with an answer to this rather unexpected inquiry, we With the screaming song of the girls allow the subject to drop, dismissing in our ears we leave behind us the the loquacious but tottering Ivan with village of Drevno and wade towards a small present of twenty copecks" for our carriage. We find the driver fast tea." I do not fancy any part of this asleep upon the cushions inside, and sum of money was spent upon that awake him with difficulty; from his innocent decoction, however, for appar-appearance when awake we conclude ently Ivan had convinced himself that that he, too, has found the means of the particular saint whose anniversary doing honor to the saint of the day—is he was so worthily celebrating would it St. Bacchus ? —and we receive full be immensely offended if his devotees in Drevno should retire to bed even partially sober.

All this proved very depressing. Had we stumbled upon the true secret of the poverty of rural Russia? Supposing that the kabák could be eliminated, we reflected, could the Russian peasant proprietor live happily and support his wife and family in decency and comfort upon the produce and profits of his plot of communal land? I believe the answer to this would be, that famines and "the act of God" being absent, undoubtedly he could. Occupied with the consideration of this problem, we retraced our steps through the deep mud towards the carriage. As we passed the kabák sounds of revelry assailed our ears; we thought we recognized Ivan's voice, who, apparently, had already laid out his teamoney, but not upon any infusion of that herb.

confirmation of our opinion on the way
home. It appears that our Jehu had
not introduced us to all, or nearly all,
the holes and ruts on the way out; we
plunged into numbers of new ones
all very fine and large- before we
reached home; and my companion
seriously assured me that had the drive
been much longer he would certainly
have arrived in several pieces.

In conclusion I will observe that since the day which I devoted to a visit of inspection to the village of Drevno, I have seen Ivan Ivanovitch - the Russian moujik-under more favorable auspices. Every day of the year is not a holiday, though most are. Ivan sometimes works, and works hard, but he will avoid labor whenever he can get out of it. During the famine of last year a landed proprietor, whose intelligent benevolence did him the greatest credit, organized works upon his own estate sufficient to provide work-and hence food-for the moujiks of several villages in the neighborhood. After a week's satisfactory work, a day arrived when no single moujik appeared to proceed with the lucrative job offered to him. After a while, however, à spokesman arrived upon the scene, who explained that his companions had been informed that "Government was going to feed the peasants, and therefore it was unnecThe girls were clean and not bad-essary to take the useless trouble

A body of young girls met us as we went; they were all arrayed in their gala frocks of bright prints, and each wore a gaudy handkerchief round her head. They were singing some rustic song in three parts, the highest soaring to heights undreamed of in this country. The quality of the voice was little better than a scream, but the actual notes reached were far beyond anything attempted by educated singers.