Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1873-01-29
VOy-kulak.

A small, low-roofed, sitting room, from
the rough. hewn log walls OF which the
plaster Of clay and dried leaves, which
serves it as mortar, peeps in long parable
lines up 20 the very roof; a huge tiled
stove, with its invariable " bed place on
the top ; an enormous prairie Of bed, re-
calling Sergeant Kites description of the
bed of honor, in which ten thousand men
might lie and never feel each other -
little oil-amp, throwing into strong relief
the VOLTS head that grins on the wall, the
git-edged picture Of the saint In the far
ther corner, and the rough, bearded, low
browed faces of the four men who are
slpping cabbage soup with little wooden
ladies out of the immense pine wood bowl
on the riekety table a little, square
double window. through which the great
waste of snow without, half seen by the
6tful CLEANS Of moonlight that simmer
through the driving clouds, appears and
vanishes like a nightmare. Such Is the
scene at which | find myself assisting, one
bitter December night, amid the bound
less soltudes Of the Don. Strictly speak
ING. a Cossack village (or indeed Russian
village Of any kiud) can scarcely be pro
nounced a desirable residence, thanks to
the presence Of various unregistered ten
ants, who exact rent instead of paying 1t
but my travels in snake-breedlng Arabia,
and cockroach-huntlng Egypt, among the
scorpions Of Syria, and the tarantulas OF
the Greek Archipelago, had long since case
hardened me to such phenomena and on
a clustering winter night, with the ther-
mometer below zero, Fahrenheit, and a
genuine Russian storm burying the roads
fathom-deep in drifting snow, shelter is
worth having, even when attended by the
risk of seeing a cockroach take header
into YOUR glass from the ceiling, or finding
grand parade of what Mark Tapley
would call " vampires" going on in your
coat pocket.
It seems to be the fashion nowadays fo
every tourist who has happened to deVlat'
fftv miles from the beaten track, to pro
claim the feat, as if he were Bruce anc
Livingstone in one, and to hold up hi.
" new route" for the alteration of al
true believers in Murray and Bradshaw
Among such by-ways of travel, the line o.
the Don merits higher place than it ha
vet attained All the great rivers OF Rus
sia are more or less desolate; but tn,
desolation of the Don is unique. Th'
loneliness of the Y Olga, the Dnieper, th
Dniester, is that Of an old world deserted
the loneliness of the Don is that OF ney
world still unpeoped. Toward sunset, es
pecially. the aspect Of the whole landscap
becomes wild and dreary to the last de
gree. The red light fading slowly owe
the vast treeless PLAIN; the gathering shad
ows stealing over the sandy shores and lon
low iulets, till all is wrapped in ghostl
dimness the dead grim silence, broke
only by the plash and welter OF the sullel
waters, OF the long, shriil, melancholy cr,
of some passing bird-au produce an eff
feet impossible to describe.
And what a study is the Cossack him
self! perhaps the most picturesque of al
the barbaric waits and strays which tn
ebb of the fifteenth century has STRANDED
upon the shores of the nineteenth. Thos
who have seen him only as the tanned loun
ger of great oiies, tending horses or open
ing doors in Moscow and St. Petersburg
can hardly conceive him as he appears Il
his native deserts, embracing his comrade
one minute and knocking him down tn
next. now snoring for hours on the top Q
his stove, wrapped in a greasy sheepskin
and now rushing over the steppe like
hurricane, with his shaggy hair streamin
in the wind, and his small, deep-set glitter
ing ewes elancing restlessly from side t
side like those of a bird Of prey, mag
nifcent relic of the men who were th
scourge of Poland and Grim Tartary, i
the grim old days when every man did tina
which was right in his own eyes, an
wrong in those of every one else.
Among these men had been domicile
for weeks, and had enjoyed, with the kee
relish of one tasting a little plain whole
some barbarism after long surfeit of ciy
ilization their wild war-songs and barbari
dances, their hot fights and boisterou
merry makings, their quaint old world trs
ditions, and even their recent tossing {
myself on high, as special honor, in i'm
tatlon of the old custom of raising the
chief on shield after his election. Whel
ever | entered Cossack hut | looked, a
matter of course, for an abundance
good songs and racy stories, plenty
rough, good banter, little bo,
ish horse-play, and an untiring flow of tu
and jolhty. But on this particular ever
ing | am not ten minutes IN the compan
OF my four c0nUjreS without seeing tn,
there is something wrong, Alter the fir
greeting, the whole four are utterly silent
and to me, who know how these roug
jovial, ver-grown children shout, and cha
and push each other about, and laugh fro
mere fulness of high spirits, this unwont,
silence has IN it something grim and pc
tentous. From time to time 1 notice the
eyeing each other turtlvely, as if awaitir
the mention Of a subject which no OF
liked to be the first to introduce.
length l ventured to give an impetus
the conversation myself
We'll, brothers, how are the wolv
behaving Gown here this winter ?"
The question is natural one at th
place and season, and, to such born spor
men as these, ought to be specially accer
able; but had l proposed the immedia
assassination OF the emperor, my heare
could hardly seem more astonnded and d
mayed.
They're behaving well enough, ma
ter" says one Of the younger men
length, with an air Of such extreme tran
ness that l feel sure he is lying. "Th
must be keeping Christmas at home,
see so little of them
Ach, Alexey Stepanovitch, won't the
ha Al nh
that :" breaks in a grizzled old fellow
side him. " If God is angry with us, C
We mend the matter by telling lies abe