The rulers of Siberia have indeed confined the Tchuktchi within narrow limits, but here at least they obey no foreign ruler, and wander, unmolested by the stranger, with their numerous reindeer herds, over the naked tundras. A natural distrust of their powerful neighbors has rendered them long unwilling to enter into any commercial intercourse with the Russians, and to meet them at the fair of Ostrownoje, a small town, situated not far from their frontiers, on a small island of the Aniuj, in 68° N. lat.

This remotest trading-place of the Old World is not so unimportant as might be supposed, from the sterile nature of the country, for the Tchuktchi are not satisfied, like the indolent Lapps or Samoïedes, with the produce of their reindeer herds, but strive to increase their enjoyments or their property by an active trade. From the East Cape of Asia, where, crossing Bering's Straits in boats covered with skins, they barter furs and walrus-teeth from the natives of America, the Tchuktchi come with their goods and tents drawn on

sledges to the fair of Ostrownoje. Other sledges laden with lichens, the food of the reindeer, follow in their train, as in their wanderings, however circuitous, they not seldom pass through regions so stony and desert as not even to afford these frugal animals the slightest repast. Thus regulating their movements by the wants of their herds, they require five or six months for a journey which, in a direct line, would not be much longer than a thousand versts, and are almost constantly wandering from place to place, though, as they always carry their dwellings along with them, they at the same time never leave home. One of these snail-like caravans generally consists of fifty or sixty families, and one fair is scarcely at an end when they set off to make their arrangements for

the next.

Tobacco is the primum mobile of the trade which centres in Ostrownoje. Their pipes are of a peculiar character, larger at the stem than the bowl, which holds a very small quantity of tobacco. In smoking, they swallow the fumes of the tobacco, and often, after six or eight whiffs, fall back completely intoxi

cated for the time. The desire to procure a few of its narcotic leaves induces the American Esquimaux, from the Icy Cape to Bristol Bay, to send their produce from hand to hand as far as the Gwosdew Islands in Bering's Straits, where it is bartered for the tobacco of the Tchuktchi, and these again principally resort to the fair of Ostrownoje to purchase tobacco from the Russians. Generally the Tchuktchi receive from the Americans as many skins for half a poud, or eighteen pounds, of tobacco-leaves as they afterwards sell to the Russians for two pouds of tobacco of the same quality. These cost the Russian merchant about 160 roubles at the very utmost, while the skins which he obtains in barter are worth at least 260 at Jakutsk, and are more than double that sum at St. Petersburg.

The furs of the Tchuktchi principally consist of black and silver-gray foxes, stone-foxes, gluttons, lynxes, otters, beavers, and a fine species of marten which does not occur in Siberia, and approaches the sable in value. They also bring to the fair bear-skins, walrus-thongs and teeth, sledge-runners of whale-ribs, and ready-made clothes of reindeer skin. The American furs are generally packed in sacks of seal skin, which are made in an ingenious manner by extracting the bones and flesh through a small opening made in the abdomen.

The Russian traders on their part bring to the fair, besides tobacco, ironware-particularly kettles and knives-for the Tchuktchi, and tea, sugar, and various stuffs for their countrymen who have settled along the Kolyma.

But Ostrownoje attracts not only Tchuktchi and Russians; a great number of the Siberian tribes from a vast circuit of 1000 or 1500 versts-Jukahires, Lamutes, Tungusi, Tschuwanzi, Koriaks—also come flocking in their sledges, drawn partly by dogs, partly by horses, for the purpose of bartering their commodities against the goods of the Tchuktchi. Fancy this barbarous assembly meeting every year during the intense cold and short days of the beginning of March. Picture to yourself the fantastic illumination of their red watch-fires blazing under the starry firmament, or mingling their ruddy glare with the Aurora flickering through the skies, and add to the strange sight the hollow sound of the Shaman's drum, and the howling of several hundreds of hungry dogs, and you will surely confess that no fair has a more original character than that of Ostrownoje. A government commissary, assisted by some Cossacks, superintends the fair, and receives the inconsiderable market-tax which the Tchuktchi pay to the Emperor.

All preliminaries having been arranged, the orthodox Russians repair to the chapel for the purpose of hearing a solemn mass, after which, the hoisting of a flag on the tower of the ostrog announces the opening of the market. At this welcome sign, the Tchuktchi, completely armed with spears, bows, and arrows, advance with their sledges, and form a wide semicircle round the fort, while the Russians, and the other visitors of the fair, ranged opposite to them, await in breathless silence the tolling of the bell, which is to begin the active business of the day. At the very first sound, each trader, grotesquely laden with packages of tobacco, kettles, knives, or whatever else he supposes best able to supply some want, or to strike some fancy of the Tchuktchi, rushes as fast as he can towards the sledges, and in the jumble not seldom knocks down a competitor, or is himself stretched at full length on the snow. But, unmindful of the loss of cap and gloves, which he does not give himself time to pick up, he starts afresh, to make up for the delay by redoubled activity. Before he reaches the first Tchuktch, his eloquence breaks forth in an interminable flow, and in a strange jargon of Russian, Tchuktch, and Jakute, he praises the excellence of his tobacco or the solidity of his kettles. The imperturbable gravity of the Tchuktch forms a remarkable contrast with the greedy eagerness of the Russian trader; without replying to his harangue, he merely shakes his head if the other offers him too little for his goods, and never for an instant loses his self-possession: while the Russian, in his hurry, not seldom hands over two pouds of tobacco for one, or pockets a red fox instead of a black one. Although the Tchuktch have no scales with them, it is not easy to deceive them in the weight, for they know exactly by the feeling of the hand whether a quarter of a pound is wanting to the poud. The whole fair seldom lasts longer than three days, and Ostrownoje, which must have but very few stationary inhabitants indeed (as it is not even mentioned in statistical accounts, which cite towns of seventeen souls), is soon after abandoned for many months to its ultra-Siberian solitude.

But before we allow the Tchuktchi to retire to their deserts, we may learn something more of their habits by accompanying Mr. Matiuschkin-Wrangell's companion--on a visit to the ladies of one of their first chiefs. "We enter the outer tent, or namet,' consisting of tanned reindeer skins supported on a slender frame-work. An opening at the top to let out the smoke, and a kettle in the centre, announce that antechamber and kitchen are here harmoniously blended into one. But where are the inmates? Most probably in that large sack made of the finest skins of reindeer calves, which occupies, near the kettle, the centre of the 'namet.' To penetrate into this 'sanctum sanctorum' of the Tchuktch household, we raise the loose flap which serves as a door, creep on all fours through the opening, cautiously re-fasten the flap by tucking it under the floor-skin, and find ourselves in the reception or withdrawing room—the 'polog.' A snug box no doubt for a cold climate, but rather low, as we can not stand upright in it, and not quite so well ventilated as a sanitary commissioner would approve of, as it has positively no opening for light or air. A suffocating smoke meets us on entering, we rub our eyes, and when they have at length got accustomed to the biting atmosphere, we perceive, by the gloomy light of a

train-oil lamp, the worthy family squatting on the floor in a state of almost complete nudity. Without being in the least embarrassed, Madame Leütt and her daughter receive us in their primitive costume: but to show us that the Tchuktchi know how to receive company, and to do honor to their guests, they immediately insert strings of glass beads in their greasy hair. Their hospitality equals their politeness; for, instead of a cold reception, a hot dish of boiled reindeer-flesh, copiously irrigated with rancid train-oil by the experienced hand of the mistress of the household, is soon after smoking before us. Unfortunately our effeminate taste is not up to the haut goût of her culinary art, and while Mr. Leütt does ample justice to the artistic talent of his spouse, by rapidly bolting down pieces as large as a fist, we are hardly able to swallow a morsel."

During his visit at Ostrownoje, Matiuschkin had a favorable opportunity of becoming acquainted with the sports of the Tchuktchi, the chieftain, Makomol, having set out prizes for a race. These consisted of a valuable silver fox, a first-rate beaver skin, and two fine walrus-teeth. Nothing can be more admirable than the fleetness of the reindeer or the dexterity of their drivers; and the agility displayed in the foot-race by the Tchuktchi, running at full speed, in their heavy winter dresses, over a distance of fifteen versts, gives a high idea of their muscular powers. After the races, the spectators are treated to a grand choregraphic display. The Arctic bayaderes, muffled from head to foot in their stiff skin garments, form a narrow circle, slowly moving their feet backward and forward, and fiercely gesticulating with their hands, whilst their faces are distorted into a thousand horrible grimaces. The singing that accompanies the ballet has no doubt its charm for native ears, but to strangers it seems no better than a kind of grunt. The representation is closed by three first-rate artistes executing a particularly favorite dance. The faces of their countrymen express the same intense admiration with which a European dilettante follows the graceful pirouettes of a Taglioni, while the Russian guests see only three greasy monsters alternately rushing towards each other and starting back, until at length they stop from sheer exhaustion. As a token of their satisfaction, the Russians regale the fair performers with a cup of brandy and a roll of tobacco, and both parties take leave of each other with mutual protestations of satisfaction and friendship.

Though most of the Reindeer or nomadic Tchuktchi have been baptized, yet Wrangell supposes the ceremony to have been a mere financial speculation on their part, and is convinced that the power of the Shamans is still as great as ever. An epidemic had carried off a great number of persons, and also whole herds of reindeer. In vain the Shamans had recourse to their usual conjurations, the plague continued. They consulted together, and directed that one of their most respected chiefs, named Kotschen, must be sacrificed, to appease the irritated spirits. Kotschen was willing to submit to the sentence, but none could be found to execute it, until his own son, prevailed on by his father's exhortations, and terrified by his threatened curse, plunged a knife into his heart, and gave his body to the Shamans.

Polygamy is general among the Tchuktchi, and they change their wives as often as they please. Still, though the women are certainly slaves, they are al

lowed more influence, and are subjected to less labor than among many savages. Among other heathenish and detestable customs, is that of killing all deformed children, and all old people as soon as they become unfit for the hardships and fatigues of a nomad life. Two years before Wrangell's arrival at Kolyma there was an instance of this in the case of one of their richest chiefs. Waletka's father became infirm and tired of life, and was put to death at his own express desire by some of his nearest relations.

Besides the wandering, or Reindeer Tchuktchi, who call themselves Tennygk, there are others, dwelling in fixed habitations along the borders of the sea at Bering's Straits and the Gulf of Anadyr, who differ considerably from the former in appearance and language. These Onkilon, or stationary Tchuktchi, belong to the wide-spread Esquimaux 'family, and, like most of their race, subsist by hunting the whale, the walrus, and the seal. They live in a state of abject dependence on the nomad Tchuktchi, and are poor, like all fishermen, while some of the Tennygk chieftains possess several thousands of reindeer, and are continually adding to their wealth by trade. Of course there is an active exchange of commodities between the two; the Onkilon furnishing thongs of walrus hide, walrus-teeth, train-oil, etc., and receiving reindeer skins, or ready-made clothes of the same material, in return.

They live in small settlements or villages spread along the coast; their huts, raised on frame-works of whale-rib and covered with skins, resemble a large irregular cone reposing on its side, with the apex directed to the north, and the base shelving abruptly to the south. Here is the small opening, closed by a flap of loose skin, which serves as a door, while the smoke escapes and the light enters through a round hole in the roof. At the farther or northern end of this structure is a second low square tent, covered with double reindeer skins, the polog, which in winter serves both as the dining and bed room of the family.

The Onkilon catch seals in a kind of net made of leather straps, which they spread out under the ice, and in which the animal entangles itself with the head or flippers. When the walrus, which is particularly abundant about Koliutschin Island, creeps on shore, they steal upon it unawares, cut off its retreat, and kill it with their spears. Like the Esquimaux, they use dogs to drag their sledges.

The number of the Tchuktchi is greater than one might expect to find in so sterile a country. According to the Russian missionaries, there were, some years back, 52 ulusses or villages of the Onkilon, with 1568 tents, and 10,000 inhabitants; and Wrangell tells us that the Tennygk are at least twice as numerous, so that the entire population of the land of the Tchuktchi may possibly amount to 30,000.