startling. One hand-organ was grinding out the "Red, White, and Blue." Grace nearly wept with joy when she heard it; and we had great difficulty in dragging Tom away from the instrument.
"This is the happiest moment of my visit!" he exclaimed plaintively.
We stood and watched the people for a long time. They were so happy it was a pleasure to look at them. Towards the end of the week, however, the effects of the carnival began to show themselves in a rather unpleasant way.
The moujik has few wants. If he has money enough to buy his sheepskin coat once in six or eight years, and his black bread each day, it is all he desires. What can he do with any extra kopecks he may have? He spends them for vodka, of course, and during the carnival he drinks steadily all the time. The result may be imagined. It takes the first three days of Lent for him to recover from the fête. During this time it is next to impossible to get any work done,—even a nail driven in, or a shoe mended.
But the moujik makes up for his indulgence by the severity of his fast. He eats no meat, eggs, milk, or butter; and as good fish is expensive, he takes it salt, dried, or stale. If he falls ill, no power on earth can induce him to break his fast. He would rather die than to commit the sin of taking a mouthful of beef or wine. As there are four Lents a year in the Greek Church, I for one do not begrudge the Russian peasant his little indulgences between.
