WINTER ONCE MORE 55 



On our arrival at Ust-Zylma at two o'clock on Sunday 

 morning, we found service going on in the church in cele- 

 bration of Easter Eve. We went with M. Znaminski to 

 the 3 A.M. mass, and after service breakfasted with him, 

 and at 7 A.M. turned into our hammocks for an hour or 

 two's rest. The Easter holidays lasted three days, 

 during which we saw plenty of eating and drinking, and' 

 some (but not much) drunkenness. The Russian peasantry 

 in Siberia easily get drunk. They drink vodka neat, and 

 two or three glasses are enough for most of them. There 

 is one very curious circumstance about drunkenness in 

 this part of the world. So far as we could ascertain, 

 with the Russian peasants drunkenness never produces 

 crime. When a Russian peasant is drunk, he is not 

 quarrelsome like most Englishmen, but simply becomes 

 obtrusively affectionate. He wants to embrace you, and 

 kiss you, and be your very best friend. During these 

 holidays, when we were returning from the hospitable 

 boards of our Russian or German friends in the small 

 hours of the morning, we would occasionally meet one or 

 two victims of excess of vodka lying in the snow, their 

 malitzas being warm enough to prevent them from being 

 frozen to death. 



On the Sunday night there was a very heavy fall of 

 snow. At least a foot must have been added to the 

 depth. On the Monday morning the weather was very 

 stormy, and the fresh fallen snow was drifted into hills 

 and valleys. The change in the appearance of the town 

 was wonderful. The vast dunghill of Ust-Zylma had 

 put on its Easter holiday attire, and was once more pure 

 as the driven snow. Everything was covered with a 

 layer of white powder, dry as dust, and white as (the 

 only possible comparison) white as itself. At night the 

 effect was still more striking. The snow on the railings, 



