CHAP. xvni. RUSSIAN BATH. 213 



All the day it had been a dead calm, but for the slight south 

 breeze that had risen towards evening. The next morning 

 a long-unfelt pleasant breath of wind was blowing down the 

 river ; it was not enough, however, to drive back the visita- 

 tion of mosquitoes that was almost making us wish for the 

 blustering north gale back again. 



Despatching Little Feodor, our most intelligent man, by 

 the steamer to Kuya, we bade him walk over to Mekitza, 

 then ferret out the peasant and the swan's skin, and bring us 

 home the latter. Meanwhile we spent the day blowing eggs. 

 In the evening we took a Russian bath — an experience worth 

 describing. We lay down upon a platform in a wooden 

 house ; a primitive stove was in it, ' built of stones loosely 

 piled one upon the other ; a hole in the side of the house 

 with a sliding door let out the smoke. A wood-fire was 

 kindled in the stove; it was allowed to go out when the 

 stones were thoroughly heated ; the steam resulting from 

 the pouring of a glass of cold water upon them soon cleared 

 the room of all foul air and smoke. As we lay stretched 

 on the platform we occasionally threw water upon the hot 

 stones, and flogged ourselves with a small broom, com- 

 posed of birch-twigs, still clothed with leaves; after which 

 we rubbed ourselves down with matting, sponged all over 

 with cold water, then went into another apartment to cool 

 ourselves, smoke a few jpapyros, and dress. The peasants 

 frequent these bath-houses, and often walk out of the hot 

 steam naked, the colour of boiled crabs, to plunge into the 

 Petchora. 



The next day was one of our red-letter days. Little 



