CHAPTER XIV. Government magazines An St. Peter's festival-Waygulka pic-nics-Sudden cold— THE 29th of June was a great festival, the day of St. Peter, and the end of a fast of many weeks. For the first time since our arrival, we saw meat on our table. There is no slaughterhouse in the whole town; but prior to each great festival some of the richer citizens kill an ox in their house, and distribute the meat among their friends and neighbours. At other festivals the latter do the same, and then the compliment is returned. The festive fare of this day commenced with poultry, pie, and a dish of minced beef; such dishes being always symbolical of a grand fête. The weather having been cold, with heavy rain, and Josephine being indisposed, I stayed the whole day in doors. The public, however, nothing daunted by the inclemency of the weather, carried on their festivities according to usual and immemorial custom. On St. Peter's day it is customary for the Berezovians to make an excursion on the banks of the river Waygulka, and there to assemble on an extensive meadow in front of the government magazines. Parties of gaily attired men, women, and children, press forward from town in this direction, and on arriving at the spot, congregate in merry circles and in different groups. Eatables and dainties are brought from home by thrifty housewives, and the exercise of mutual civilities and hospitalities on the occasion becomes universal. The poorer classes regale themselves with scantier fare of cedar nuts. The meadow is the only public promenade in the environs, and is visited only once in the year. In general the Berezovians are not fond of promenades; the mosquitoes, as I believe, destroying all enjoyment. The good people, too, prefer boating to land excursions. The cold was so piercing on this day, that I It was obliged to put on warmer clothing. gradually grew more intense, blowing from the Frozen Ocean, and continuing in this quarter for several days. Mosquitoes disappeared; and the earth, which had been soaked with rain, again became dry. Still I resolved to take a walk in order to see something of the neighbourhood. Josephine and Madame Xoffered to accompany me, and we sallied forth. This time no mosquitoes annoyed us; but the atmosphere was full of innumerable small gnats and flies, more venomous even than mosquitoes. They flew straight into one's eyes, ears, and mouth, and their bites produced a painful swelling. Josephine could not bear them, and soon returned home; but I could not prevail on Madame X-to do the same. She remained with me and was bent on the walk; and as she enjoyed no walk when alone, for her sake I was obliged to keep her company in the dirty and muddy streets, leaping from plank to plank, from stem to stem, the wooden substitutes here for a pavement. Having made the round of the principal streets and places, and happening to pass by the house of Madame X's sister, my companion stepped in and remained there, leaving me at liberty to dispose of myself as I liked. I took advantage of this moment of freedom, and with hurried steps left the town and entered the adjacent forest. Here, after a short walk I found, to my great astonishment, a narrow road with traces of wheels, and this was the first road I had seen since I left Tobolsk. The sight, insignificant as under other circumstances it might have seemed, was to me one of the most endearing ones that I remember. Wonderful is the power of associations, but only they whom the force of circumstances have thrown into a distant and strange country, and who remember the impression they received when seeing a national costume or national colours, or when hearing strains of a song once familiar to them in their native land, can form a conception of what I at that moment felt. Thoughts of home and all its endearments rushed upon my memory: the past started up, as in a mirror, before my mind, and my heart clung fast to its shadow. Without a moment's reflection I followed the course of the narrow road as though clasping the hand of a dear and long unseen friend. But alas! the illusion soon vanished, and the road terminated in front of the government magazines. Grievously disappointed, I remained fixed on the spot, with feelings like those experienced by a child running after a bubble which bursts before her eyes. I determined, nevertheless, to continue my walk; but this time diverging from my previous route, I proceeded along the banks of the river Waygulka. Before, however, I had proceeded very far, I came upon several Ostiak families, who had recently arrived at the place, and formed a summer encampment. Women and children were sitting at a large, blazing fire, baking their bread of rye-flour—a sort of kettlebread, such as is sometimes baked with us—in the ashes.* The men, I found, had embarked on board the merchant vessels at Berezov, and gone to fish in the Oby gulf. Their families had settled but temporarily here, to be near the town, whence they could more easily procure provisions for their subsistence. Small huts constructed of the bark of the birch, not unlike the booths of our wandering * The Polish term for it is wychopieniek, from the bread being baked quickly, or as it were caught out of the ashes. The bread so baked is by no means bad; it has a peculiar, and even superior flavour to that obtained by the usual baking process. |