On the occasion of taking the Communion, the toilet of the communicant is commonly the richest her means will admit of. Young ladies make their appearance with their plaited hair falling in rich tresses on their shoulders as if it was their wedding. Costly ear-rings, dresses of rich silk, and a variety of trinkets, adorn her person. No female communicant approaches the altar in a pelisse, or any warm upper garment, but is attired in complete ball-costume. After the communion, it is usual to have a fête at home. On that day no work whatever is done, either by the communicant or her family, but, immediately on her return from church— nay, on her way home-she invites her friends relatives, and acquaintances to tea, and all are liberally regaled with the best her house possesses. Wealthy families do not limit their reception to tea, but give a regular evening party, entertaining their guests as on a great festival, with the most cheerful sports and pastimes. This mode of celebrating one of the most important rites of Christianity is, I think, as imposing as it is exhilirating, yet I could not but conceive that it ought to be accompanied by some acts of

repentance, which seem so suitable to such an occasion.

The last week of Lent, or the grand week as it is called in my own country, is not devoted here to the baking of cakes and the preparation of viands for Easter, but to scraping the floors with knives; an operation which, however needful, is excessively disagreeable, but is never omitted on the approach of a great festival. There was a time when I felt delighted at the advent of Easter. From my earliest childhood to my maturer years, this festival had to me ever been associated with many cherished reminiscences, which up to this moment remain most precious. But apart from this, Easter, in my own country, is welcomed as the beginning of spring-a season associated with all that is lovely in the year, as well as with what is pleasant in our lives. This place, again, what a contrast did it present to my native land! There is not a single thing that they have in common. Nor is the feast celebrated in the same way. There were no sort of cakes, no babies, no hams, no roast pigs with stuffingnot even the custom, as in Russia, of the con

secrated egg. The meagre Lenten soups were merely succeeded by a shtchy with meat, or by pirog of turnip, and a game pasty. And the spring the sweet, blissful spring-where was it? Snow was lying like a wide out-spread sheet everywhere; the earth and rivers were icebound; and ice even incrusted the windows. Where was the fresh verdure? where the joyous choirs of birds? the still more joyous groups of children? and where the cheerful assemblages of villagers ?

Where were you, my own dear children, who, coming from school full of glee and joy, used to play gaily amid the vernal gifts of Divine bounty, watching every flower that burst forth from its bud, and espying every bird that built its nest? Where were you, my young companions—my helpmates, who, according to your powers, have shared with your mother her domestic cares and troubles, and who at this season made merry around me at your little feast, in company with your innocent playmates? All this had vanished in the past; but to think of it, to dwell upon it, relieved my heart of a load of anguish.

In the midst of these reflections, I observed

This, I confess,

but at such a

some visitors coming to call on me. I hastened to bolt the door, leaving an excuse with my hostess, that I was indisposed. may seem to have been rude, moment it would have been most painful to me to have received congratulations, as if I had indeed been happy. The congratulation is expressed in these words, Christos voskres, "Christ is risen," accompanied by three kisses. Omission of the ceremony would have been considered a want of good breeding, nay, an unpardonable affront, no allowance being made for the difference between their own and European manners. But I shut myself up for three days in my sick chamber, and saw no one.

As April advanced, the sun moved in a large orbit, so that we had but very short nights; yet the rays did not communicate any warmth. They were cold smiles, like those of the coquette. The glare of the snow dazzled the eyes, but obscured the sight. This overpowering splendour of the sun, combined with the whiteness of the snow, is indeed the cause of the numerous instances of blindness among the Ostiaks. The large fires we keep, also operates most injuriously

on the vision. Inflammation of the eyes is a prevailing complaint among the Ostiaks, and not unfrequently ends in a complete loss of sight.

Not a day passed that we had not some curious meteorologic phenomenon. Sometimes stupendous fiery pillars appeared above the sun, or on each side of it, and sometimes three parahelia, or mock suns, might be seen at once. These phenomena, however, are common here, and from their frequency scarcely attract any notice.

One morning I heard in the street a shout of "The crow! the crow!" This word was taken up, and echoed loudly by many other voices. At last the door of my apartment was opened, and a boy about fourteen years old, putting in his head, exclaimed, "the crow is come!" and then ran away, slamming the door behind him.

"God bless them! what has happened?" I mentally exclaimed. "Have they become crazy?" I put aside my tapestry-frame, at which I was sitting, and went out to inquire what could have occasioned all this hubbub.

Scarcely had I passed the threshold when I saw that all eyes were fixed on me, and every