eaking back. We hear the songs
and laughter of the girls beside the stream or pool which ripples
pleasantly against its banks in the summer time, but in the winter
shows no sign of life, except at the spot, much frequented by the
wives and daughters of the village, where an "ice-hole" has been cut
in its massive pall. And at night we see the homely dwellings of the
villagers assume a picturesque aspect to which they are strangers by
the tell-tale light of day, their rough lines softened by the mellow
splendor of a summer moon, or their unshapely forms looming forth
mysteriously against the starlit snow of winter. Above all we become
familiar with those cottage interiors to which the stories contain so
many references. Sometimes we see the better class of homestead,
surrounded by its fence through which we pass between the
often-mentioned gates. After a glance at the barns and cattle-sheds,
and at the garden which supplies the family with fruits and vegetables
(on flowers, alas! but little store is set in the northern provinces),
we cross the threshold, a spot hallowed by many traditions, and pass,
through what in more pretentious houses may be called the vestibule,
into the "living room." We become well acquainted with its
arrangements, with the cellar beneath its wooden floor, with the
"corner of honor" in which are placed the "holy pictures," and with
the stove which occupies so large a share of space, within which daily
beats, as it were the heart of the house, above which is nightly taken
the repose of the family. Sometimes we visit the hut of the
poverty-stricken peasant, more like a shed for cattle than a human
habitation, with a mud-floor and a tattered roof, through which the
smoke makes its devious way. In these poorer dwellings we witness much
suffering; but we learn to respect the patience and resignation with
which it is generally borne, and in the greater part of the humble
homes we visit we become aware of the existence of many domestic
virtues, we see numerous tokens of family affection, of filial
reverence, of parental love. And when, as we pass along the village
street at night, we see gleaming through the utter darkness the faint
rays which tell that even in many a poverty-stricken home a lamp is
burning before the "holy pictures," we feel that these poor tillers of
the soil, ignorant and uncouth though they too often are, may be
raised at times by lofty thoughts and noble aspirations far above the
low