raven-black shaggy hair, a thin beard, and a yellow-brown complexion, are their characteristic features, and in general they do nothing to improve a form which has but little natural beauty to boast of. The Samoïede is satisfied if his heavy reindeer dress affords him protection against the cold and rain, and cares little if it be dirty or ill-cut; some dandies, however, wear furs trimmed with cloth of a gaudy color. The women, as long as they are unmarried, take some pains with their persons; and when a Samoïede girl, with her small and lively black eyes, appears in her reindeer jacket tightly fitting round the waist, and trimmed with dog-skin, in her scarlet moccasins, and her long black tresses ornamented with pieces of brass or tin, she may well tempt some rich admirer to offer a whole herd of reindeer for her hand. For among the Samoïedes no father ever thinks of bestowing a portion on his daughter: on the contrary, he expects from the bridegroom an equivalent for the services which he is about to lose by her marriage. The consequence of this degrading custom is that the husband treats his consort like a slave, or as an inferior being. A Samoïede, who had murdered his wife, was quite surprised at being summoned before a court of justice for what he considered a trifling offense; "he had honestly paid for her," he said, “and could surely do what he liked with his own."

The senses and faculties of the Samoïedes correspond to their mode of life as nomads and hunters. They have a piercing eye, delicate hearing, and a steady hand: they shoot an arrow with great accuracy, and are swift runners. On the other hand, they have a gross taste, generally consuming their fish or their reindeer flesh raw; and their smell is so weak that they appear quite insensible to the putrefying odors arising from the scrapings of skins, stinking fish, and other offal which is allowed to accumulate in and about their huts.

The Samoïede is good-natured, melancholy, and phlegmatic. He has, indeed, but indistinct notions of right and wrong, of good and evil; but he possesses a grateful heart, and is ready to divide his last morsel with his friend. Cruelty, revenge, the darker crimes that pollute so many of the savage tribes of the tropical zone, are foreign to his character. Constantly at war with a dreadful climate, a prey to ignorance and poverty, he regards most of the things of this life with supreme indifference. A good meal is of course a matter of importance in his eyes; but even the want of a meal he will bear with stoical apathy, when it can only be gained by exertion, for he sets a still higher value on repose and sleep.

A common trait in the character of all Samoïedes is the gloomy view which they take of life and its concerns; their internal world is as cheerless as that which surrounds them. True men of ice and snow, they relinquish, without a murmur, a life which they can hardly love, as it imposes upon them many privations, and affords them but few pleasures in return.

They are suspicious, like all oppressed nations that have much to suffer from their more crafty or energetic neighbors. Obstinately attached to their old customs, they are opposed to all innovations; and they have been so often deceived by the Russians, that they may well be pardoned if they look with a mistrustful eye upon all benefits coming from that source.

The wealth of the Samoïedes consists in the possession of herds of reindeer,

and P. von Krusenstern, in 1845, calculated the number owned by the Samoiedes of the Lower Petschora, near Pustosersk, at 40,000 head—a much smaller number than what they formerly had, owing to a succession of misfortunes. The Russian settlers along that immense stream and its tributaries gradually obtain possession of their best pasture-grounds, and force them to recede within narrower and narrower limits. Thus many have been reduced to the wretched condition of the Arctic fisherman, or have been compelled to exchange their ancient independence for a life of submission to the will of an imperious master.

The entire number of the European and Asiatic Samoïedes is estimated at no more than about 10,000, and this number, small as it is when compared to the vast territory over which they roam, is still decreasing from year to year. Before their subjugation by the Russians, the Samoïedes were frequently at war with their neighbors, the Ostiaks, the Woguls, and the Tartars, and the rude poems which celebrate the deeds of the heroes of old are still sung in the tents of their peaceful descendants. The minstrel, or troubadour-if I may be allowed to use these names while speaking of the rudest of mankind—is seated in the centre of the hut, while the audience squat around. His gesticulations endeavor to express his sympathy with his hero. His body trembles, his voice quivers, and during the more pathetic parts of his story, tears start to his eyes, and he covers his face with his left hand, while the right, holding an arrow, directs its point to the ground. The audience generally keep silence, but their groans accompany the hero's death; or when he soars upon an eagle to the clouds, and thus escapes the malice of his enemies, they express their delight by a triumphant shout.

What is the Obi?—Inundations.-An Ostiak summer Yourt.-Poverty of the Ostiak Fishermen.-A winter Yourt.-Attachment of the Ostiaks to their ancient Customs.-An Ostiak Prince.-Archery. -Appearance and Character of the Ostiaks.-The Fair of Obdorsk.

WHAT

THAT is the Obi?" One of the most melancholy rivers on earth," say the few European travellers who have ever seen it roll its turbid waters through the wilderness, "its monotonous banks a dreary succession of swamps and dismal pine-forests, and hardly a living creature to be seen, but cranes, wild ducks, and geese." If you address the same question to one of the few Russians who have settled on its banks, he answers, with a devout mien, " Obi is our mother;" but if you ask the Ostiak, he bursts forth, in a laconic but energetic phrase, "Obi is the god whom we honor above all our other gods."

To him the Obi is a source of life. With its salmon and sturgeon he pays his taxes and debts, and buys his few luxuries; while the fishes of inferior quality which get entangled in his net he keeps for his own consumption and that of his faithful dog, eating them mostly raw, so that the perch not seldom feels his teeth as soon as it is pulled out of the water. In spring, when the Obi and its tributaries burst their bonds of ice, and the floods sweep over the plains, the Ostiak is frequently driven into the woods, where he finds but little to appease his hunger; at length, however, the waters subside, the flat banks

of the river appear above their surface, and the savage erects his summer hut close to its stream. This hovel has generally a quadrangular form, low walls, and a high pointed roof, made of willow-branches covered with large pieces of bark. These, having first been softened by boiling, are sewn together, so as to form large mats or carpets, easily rolled up and transported. The hearth, a mere hole inclosed by a few stones, is in the centre, and the smoke escapes through an aperture at the top. Close to the hut there is also, generally, a small store-house erected on high poles, as in Lapland; for the provisions must be secured against the attacks of the glutton, the wolf, or the owner's dogs.

Although the Obi and its tributaries—the Irtysch, the Wach, the Wasjugan-abundantly provide for the wants of the Ostiaks, yet those who are exclusively fishermen vegetate in a state of the greatest poverty, in indolence, drunkenness, and vice. The wily Russian settlers have got them completely in their power, by advancing them goods on credit, and thus securing the produce of their fisheries from year to year. During the whole summer Russian speculators from Obdorsk, Beresow, and Tobolsk sail about on the Obi, to receive from their Ostiak debtors the salmon and sturgeon which they have caught, or to fish on their own account, which, as having better nets and more assistance, they do with much greater success than the poor savages.

The Russian Government has, indeed, confirmed the Ostiaks in the possession of almost all the land and water in the territories of the Lower Obi and Irtysch, but the Russian traders find means to monopolize the best part of the fisheries; for ignorance and stupidity, in spite of all laws in their favor, are nowhere a match for mercantile cunning.

At the beginning of winter the Ostiaks retire into the woods, where they find at least some protection against the Arctic blasts, and are busy hunting the sable or the squirrel; but as fishing affords them at all times their chief food, they take care to establish their winter huts on some eminence above the reach of the spring inundations, near some small river, which, through holes made in the ice, affords their nets and anglers a precarious supply. Their winter yourt is somewhat more solidly, constructed than their summer residence, as it is not removed every year. It is low and small, and its walls are plastered with clay. Light is admitted through a piece of ice inserted in the wall or on the roof. In the better sort of huts, the space along one or several of the walls is hung with mats made of sedges, and here the family sits or sleeps. Sometimes a small antechamber serves to hang up the clothes, or is used as a repository for household utensils. Besides those who live solely upon fishes and birds of passage, there are other Ostiaks who possess reindeer herds, and wander in summer to the border of the Polar sea, where they also catch seals and fish. When winter approaches, they slowly return to the woods. Finally, in the more southerly districts, there are some Ostiaks who, having entirely adopted the Russian mode of life, cultivate the soil, keep cattle, or earn their livelihood as carriers.

In general, however, the Ostiak, like the Samoïede, obstinately withstands all innovations, and remains true to the customs of his forefathers. He has been so often deceived by the Russians that he is loth to receive the gifts of

civilization from their hands. He fears that if his children learn to read and write, they will no longer be satisfied to live like their parents, and that the school will deprive him of the support of his age. He is no less obstinately attached to the religion of his fathers, which in all essential points is identical with that of the Samoïedes. In some of the southern districts, along the Irtysch, at Surgut, he has indeed been baptized, and hangs up the image of a saint in his hut, as his Russian pope or priest has instructed him to do; but his Christianity extends no farther. Along the tributaries of the Obi, and below Obdorsk, he is still plunged in Schamanism.

Like the Samoïedes, the Ostiaks, whose entire number amounts to about 25,000, are subdivided into tribes, reminding one of the Highland clans. Each tribe consists of a number of families, of a common descent, and sometimes comprising many hundred individuals, who, however distantly related, consider it a duty to assist each other in distress. The fortunate fisherman divides the spoils of the day with his less fortunate clansman, who hardly thanks him for a gift which he considers as his due. In cases of dispute the Starschina, or elder, acts as a judge; if, however, the parties are not satisfied with his verdict, they appeal to the higher authority of the hereditary chieftain or prince-a title which has been conferred by the Empress Catherine II. on the Ostiak magnates, who, from time immemorial, have been considered as the heads of their tribes. These princes are, of course, subordinate to the Russian officials, and bound to appear, with the Starschinas, at the fairs of Beresow or Obdorsk, as they are answerable for the quantity and quality of the various sorts of furs which the Ostiaks are obliged to pay as a tribute to Government. Their dignity is hereditary, and, in default of male descendants, passes to the nearest male relation. It must, however, not be supposed that these princes are distinguished from the other Ostiaks by their riches or a more splendid appearance; for their mode of life differs in no way from that of their inferiors in rank, and, like them, they are obliged to fish or to hunt for their daily subsistence.

On entering the hut of one of these dignitaries, Castrén found him in a ragged jacket, while the princess had no other robe of state but a shirt. The prince, having liberally helped himself from the brandy-bottle which the traveller offered him, became very communicative, and complained of the sufferings and cares of the past winter. He had exerted himself to the utmost, but without success. Far from giving way to indolence in his turf-hut, he had been out hunting in the forest, after the first snow-fall, but rarely pitching his barktent, and frequently sleeping in the open air. Yet, in spite of all his exertions, he had often not been able to shoot a single ptarmigan. His stores of meal and frozen fishes were soon exhausted, and sometimes the princely family had been reduced to eat the flesh of wolves.

The Ostiaks are excellent archers, and, like all the other hunting tribes of Siberia, use variously constructed arrows for the different objects of their chase. Smaller shafts, with a knob of wood at the end, are destined for the squirrels and other small animals whose fur it is desirable not to injure; while large arrows, with strong triangular iron points, bring down the wolf, the bear, and