cross with certain religious rites, he should plunge into the hole as
soon as possible after the ceremony. I remember once at Yaroslavl,
on the Volga, two young peasants successfully accomplished this
feat--though the police have orders to prevent it--and escaped,
apparently without evil consequences, though the Fahrenheit thermometer
was below zero. How far the custom has really a purifying influence,
is a question which must be left to theologians; but even an ordinary
mortal can understand that, if it be regarded as a penance, it must
have a certain deterrent effect. The man who foresees the necessity
of undergoing this severe penance will think twice before putting on a
disguise. So at least it must have been in the good old times; but in
these degenerate days--among the Russian peasantry as elsewhere--the
fear of the Devil, which was formerly, if not the beginning, at least
one of the essential elements, of wisdom, has greatly decreased. Many
a young peasant will now thoughtlessly disguise himself, and when the
consecration of the water is performed, will stand and look on passively
like an ordinary spectator! It would seem that the Devil, like his enemy
the Pope, is destined to lose gradually his temporal power.

But all this time I am neglecting my new acquaintance on the top of the
stove. In reality I did not neglect him, but listened most attentively
to every word of the long tale that he recited. What it was all about
I could only vaguely guess, for I did not understand more than ten per
cent of the words used, but I assumed from the tone and gestures that he
was relating to me all the incidents and symptoms of his illness. And
a very severe illness it must have been, for it requires a very
considerable amount of physical suffering to make the patient Russian
peasant groan. Before he had finished his tale a woman entered,
apparently his wife.