he had bought from a trading vessel the previous fall, and which he had reserved for cases of emergency!  I didn’t believe that there was a Cossack in all north-eastern Siberia who was capable of reserving a bottle of liquor for any such length of time, and in view of his evident uneasiness we thought best to decline to partake of the liquid refreshments and to ask no further questions.  It might be vodka, but it was not free from suspicion.  Upon our return home I called our boy and inquired if he knew anything about the Cossack’s liquor—­how he obtained it, and where it came from at that season of the year, when none of the Russian merchants had any for sale.  The boy hesitated a moment, but upon being questioned closely he explained the mystery.  It appeared that the liquor was ours.  Whenever any of the inhabitants of the village came to call upon us, as they frequently did, especially upon holidays, it was customary to give each one of them a drink.  Taking advantage of this custom, our friend the Cossack used to provide himself with a small bottle, hang it about his neck with a string, conceal it under his fur coat, and present himself at our house every now and then for the ostensible purpose of congratulating us upon some Russian holiday.  Of course we were expected to reward this disinterested sociability with a drink.  The Cossack would swallow all he could of the fiery stuff, and then holding as much as possible in his mouth he would make a terrible grimace, cover his face with one hand as if the liquor were very strong, and start hurriedly for the kitchen to get some water.  As soon as he was secure from observation he would take out his bottle, deposit in it the last mouthful of liquor which he had not swallowed, and return in a few-moments to thank us for our hospitality—­and our vodka.  This manoeuvre he had been practising at our expense for an unknown length of time, and had finally accumulated nearly a pint.  He then had the unblushing audacity to set this half-swallowed vodka before us in an old pepper-sauce bottle, and pretend that it was some that he had reserved since the previous fall for cases of emergency!  Could human impudence go farther?

I will relate one other incident which took place during the first month of our residence at Gizhiga, and which illustrates another phase of the popular character, viz. extreme superstition.  As I was sitting in the house one morning, drinking tea, I was interrupted by the sudden entrance of a Russian Cossack named Kolmagorof.  He seemed to be unusually sober and anxious about something, and as soon as he had bowed and bade me good-morning, he turned to our Cossack, Viushin, and began in a low voice to relate to him something which had just occurred, and which seemed to be of great interest to them both.  Owing to my imperfect knowledge of the language, and the low tone in which the conversation was carried on, I failed to catch its purport; but it closed with