occupants sometimes inquired of travellers for news of the health of King Stanislaus-Augustus, and were still in complete ignorance of all events which had taken place since the days of Kosciusko.

Soldiers are never seen there; officials are unknown. Even those of the inhabitants who go to Pinsk to pay taxes never ask the names of those to whom they pay them, and wrapping their receipts carefully in their handkerchiefs, never dare to examine them closely, fearing lest this might cost them dear.

The portion of country which will be the scene of our narrative was, however, neither so remote nor so wild. The almanac of Berdyczew regularly found its way there in the latter days of December, bringing a far-off reflection of foreign civilization and a collection of the facts most necessary to the inhabitants,--such as the name of the dominant planet for the current year, the date of the feast of Easter, the hour of the rising and setting of the sun, and the receipt for the destruction of insects which had been brought over from England. The post-office was only ten miles away, and the richer nobles sent a messenger for their newspapers every month or six weeks; some of them even received letters by this means still so little used.

The majority of the inhabitants preferred, in fact, to confide their commissions to the hands of a messenger on foot, even when he had to go as far as fifty miles, for the Polesian messenger is superior to all others. None walk so rapidly; none are so discreet, so faithful; none ask so few tormenting questions; and none so surely and so cleverly escape all sorts of dangers. At first sight one would take this peasant porter for a beggar or vagabond, with his torn and threadbare old gray coat, and his wallet containing a few crusts of bread and a change of shoes; but closer examination would reveal that in the folds of his girdle or in the lining of his cap, wrapped in an old ragged handkerchief or a scrap of paper, he carried titles, documents, and papers representing hundreds of millions of francs, or interests of the greatest importance. When God created the Polesian He made him a messenger: he always finds the shortest road by instinct; he never loses his way; and he goes through the most difficult places with marvellous ease. Consequently a tradition concerning messengers is current among the gentry; they hold that the promptest and surest post never can replace them. And therefore each village possesses a certain number of these hireling footmen, who tramp over the space of a hundred miles like apostles, and who, provided the recompense were sufficient, would not hesitate to carry a letter to Calcutta.

The portion of country of which we are speaking, whose geographical position it is not necessary more exactly to determine, is not so remote from Pinsk as Zarzecze, nor so near as Western Wolhynia; but it touches both of these regions, and thus occupies an intermediate position.

It is a long strip of land still in great part covered with forests of pine and oak. In the midst of it are to be found fields recently and with great difficulty reclaimed, and miserable villages all smoked and blackened by the resinous vapours from the forests.

The river Horyn flows through these forests, thus rendering them of great commercial value, for the principal revenue of the country is derived from the sale of timber transported to Dantzick in rafts. Thanks to their simple habits, almost all the inhabitants become rich in their old age. In fact, the Polesian, in spite of his wretched and poverty-stricken appearance, in spite of the inconveniences of the plica,^[2] with which they are frequently afflicted, would not change his condition for that of his cousin, the Wolhynian, who is apparently much more robust and prosperous.

In this country the peasant does not depend for support entirely upon the cultivation of the soil; there are varied means of subsistence which prevent his entertaining too great a dread of the unproductive seasons which are so terribly felt in other parts of the world. The forests and the river, to which the nobles grant him access, are for him an inexhaustible source of certain revenue and small industries. Those forests particularly from which the proprietors draw no profit after the trees suitable for sale have been cut down, furnish the principal wealth of the peasants,--bark from the oak and linden trees, barrel-hoops, bark slippers, osiers and rushes for the manufacture of baskets, blocks of beech and box wood for making domestic utensils, resinous torches, laths, and shavings. The dwellers in the dwors do not take the trouble to pick up all these refuse objects; but the peasants gather them and gain both profit and pleasure. Then, too, dried mushrooms, strawberries, mulberries, pears and wild apples, the berries of the guelder-rose and hawthorn furnish the peasant so many small harvests which yield him a modest and certain profit.

The working-men frequent the river shore. The young men of the villages are employed as raftsmen to float the timber down the river; they stretch nets and weirs, and hunt with the sparrow-hawk and boar-spear,--in a word, no one dies of hunger, and although famine sometimes threatens the poor people of the villages (and where does not this stern benefactress show her face?), if only they can hold out till harvest-time, they are sure to be able to live along together quite comfortably during another year. There are, it is true, bad days,--dark days, as the people call them. Sometimes they are obliged to make bread of bark, hay, and buckwheat. But the world would not be the world if one always enjoyed in it the peace and happiness of heaven.

The nobles who dwell in the dwors lead a patriarchal life, toward the maintenance of which the commercial relations with foreign countries contribute so little that these might without much inconvenience be altogether done away with. Everything is found, everything is manufactured in the villages; the people buy only sugar and coffee, a few bottles of Franconia wine, which is here called French wine, a few pounds of tea, a little pepper, and that is all. In many instances honey, which costs nothing, is substituted for sugar and chiccory for coffee; camomile or balm and lime tree flowers, infinitely more healthy, for tea, and horse-radish for pepper. Meat necessary for household purposes is frequently butchered at home; at other times the Jews bring it for sale at six and seven cents a pound, and tongues and tripes for even less. The poultry-yard furnishes fowls and eggs; candles are moulded in the old fashion; cloth is woven after an antique method, admirable for its simplicity; linen also is equally well spun and woven in the villages; and there are no trades necessary to daily life which are not practised in the somewhat larger towns. Everywhere one will find farriers, wheelwrights, carpenters, coopers, and masons, usually very industrious, although it must be said not very skilful. And besides, in urgent or difficult cases, when one is in a hurry, for instance, and a workman is not just at hand, there is always some Polesian who remembers having seen the thing made somewhere, and who will undertake the needed job. He does it as well as he can, and usually after several attempts becomes a tolerable workman.

I do not mean to say that trades and the arts are in a flourishing condition in Polesia; in a country so simple, but little that is artistic is required. When the shoemaker brings you a pair of boots, at first sight they will certainly not seem to be made for a human foot, they look so awkward, hard, large, rounded, and apparently moulded on a block of iron. But try them, wear them for two years in water and mud, and not a crack