s written, "Composed in Siberia in hunger and cold." An equally good
specimen was a poem entitled "Tirsis", which ran like this--

The universe is steeped in calm, The delightful sparkling dew Soothing
nature like a balm Gives to her, her life anew. Tersis alone with aching
heart, Is torn by sadness and dismay, When dear Aneta doth depart What
is there to make him gay?

And the impromptu composition of a certain captain who had visited the
place in the year 1790, dated May 6th--

N'er shall I forget thee, Village that to love I've grown, But I ever
shall regret thee And the hours so quickly flown, Hours which I was
honoured in Spending with your owner's kin, The five dearest days of my
life will hold Passed amongst most worthy people, Merry ladies, young
and old, And other interesting people.

On the last page of the album, instead of verses, there were various
recipes for remedies against stomach troubles, spasms, and worms. The
Subotchevs dined exactly at twelve o'clock and only ate old-fashioned
dishes: curd fritters, pickled cabbage, soups, fruit jellies, minced
chicken with saffron, stews, custards, and honey. They took an
after-dinner nap for an hour, not longer, and on waking up would sit
opposite one another again, drinking bilberry wine or an effervescent
drink called "forty-minds," which nearly always squirted out of
the bottle, affording them great amusement, much to the disgust of
Kalliopitch, who had to wipe up the mess afterwards. He grumbled at
the cook and housekeeper as if they had invented this dreadful drink on
purpose. "What pleasure does it give one?" he asked; "it only spoils the
furniture." Then the old people again read something, or got the dwarf
Pufka to entertain them, or sang old-fashioned duets. Their voices
were exactly alike, rather high-pitched, not very strong or steady, and
somewhat husky, especially after their nap, but not without a certain
amount of charm. Or, if need be, they played at cards, always the same
old games--cribbage, ecarte, or double-dummy whist. Then the samovar
made its appearance. The only concession they made to the spirit of the
age was to drink tea in the evening, though they always considered it an
indulgence, and were convinced that the nation was deteriorating, owing
to the use of this "Chinese herb." On the whole, they refrained from
criticising modern times or from exulting their own. They had lived like
this all their lives, but that others might live in