There is a chimney, too, and
a blazing fire of logs in a hole in the ground. There is a trough, too,
instead of a dining-table, and out of it the whole family eat, and even
the dogs sometimes. The house is not divided into rooms, but into stalls,
like those of a stable; and deer-skins are spread in the stalls, and they
are the beds; each person sits and sleeps in his own stall, on his own
deer-skin, except when the family gather round the fire, and sitting on
low stools, warm themselves, and talk together.
In one of these snug corners, an old woman was seen, quite blind, yet
sewing all day, and threading her needle by the help of her tongue. She
wore a veil of thick cloth over her head, as all the Ostyak women do, and
as she did not need light, she hid her head completely under it.
But though the Ostyaks are poor, they possess a great treasure in their
dogs, for these creatures are as useful as horses, and much more
sensible. They need no whip to make them go, and no bridle to turn them
the right way; it is enough to _tell_ them when to set out, and to stop,
or to turn, to move faster, or more slowly. These dogs are white, spotted
with black; the hair on their bodies is short, but long on their handsome
curling tails. They draw their masters in sledges, and are yoked in
pairs. There are some large sledges, in which a man can lie down in
comfort: to draw such a sledge twelve dogs are necessary; but there are
small sledges in which a poor Ostyak can just manage to crouch, and two
dogs can draw it.
Pages:
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195