Both sexes dress alike, and wear ornaments of beads in their ears.
They have a curious custom of shaving the back part of the head, _a la
moine_. Fashion is as arbitrary among the Koriaks as in Paris or New
York, and dictates the cut of garments and the style of hair dressing
with unyielding severity.

Like savages everywhere, these natives manifest a fondness for
civilized attire. A party visited the Clara Bell and obtained some
American clothing. One man sported a cast-off suit, in which he
appeared as uneasy as an organ grinder's monkey in a new coat. Another
wore a sailor's jacket from the Variag, and sported the number '19'
with manifest pride. A third had a fatigue cap, bearing the letters
'U.S.' in heavy brass, the rest of his costume being thoroughly
aboriginal. One old fellow had converted an empty meat can into a hat
without removing the printed label "stewed beef." I gave him a pair of
dilapidated gloves, which he donned at once.

The Koriaks are of two kinds, wandering and settled. The wanderers
have great numbers of reindeer, and lead a migratory life in finding
pasturage for their herds. The settled Koriaks are those who have lost
their deer and been forced to locate where they can subsist by
fishing. The former are kind and hospitable; the latter generally the
reverse. Poverty has made them selfish, as it has made many a white
man. All are honest to a degree unusual among savages. When Major
Abasa traveled among them in the winter of 1865, they sometimes
refused compensation for their services, and were scrupulously careful
to guard the property of their guests. Once the Major purposely left
some trivial articles. The next day a native brought them forward, and
was greatly astonished when pay was offered for his trouble.