when they feel it necessary to change the site of
their encampments. Tents are their only dwelling-
places, and so completely are they wedded to
a nomadic life, that it seems probable they will
rather be extinguished than benefited by the
progress of civilisation.

Among these primitive people the great Altaic
philologist, M. Alexander Castrén, found a set of
tales, which for wildness equal the most fantastic
dreams of the Hindoos. The heroes to which
they refer are completely free from all law,
moral or physical; virtue is by no means necessarily
rewarded, nor is death an insurmountable
obstacle in the way of an aspiring genius. With
these tales, in a condensed form, we present our
readers.

A tribe of Samoyedes, seven hundred strong,
was encamped in as many tents, under the rule
of seven chiefs, all members of one family, and
all maintaining the dignity of their office by
devoting their time, talents, and energies to the
single purpose of dining out. Six of these
great men were childless, but the other, the
eldest, had a boy, who, far from sharing in the
family propensity, never went out at all, but
snored away his existence in bed. On one
occasion, when a great festival was coming off, the
father of this heavy youth asked him to join the
party, but he refused with a yawn, alleging as
an excuse that he had had a bad dream, which
showed him that all the seven chiefs would
perish miserably unless they appeased the
higher powers by a sacrifice of fourteen
reindeer.

The father laughed at the dream; but, when
the next morning dawned, the horrible reality
far exceeded the dismal prediction, for the youth,
opening his eyes, found that not only the seven
chiefs, but the whole seven hundred personages,
with their reindeer and dogs, had come to an
untimely end. The frightful spectacle aroused
him to unwonted activity, and, having first cut
all the cords of the tents, he set out on a long
walk, which, at the end of some months, he
found too much for his strength, especially as
he was not fortified by a particle of food. At
last he came to the site of a former encampment,
where he found a bone, which had been
already gnawed by the dogs, but which, in the
present emergency, was not to be despised.
Having regaled himself with this delicacy, he
raked about the snow, in hopes of making more
discoveries of the same kind, but he only found
a pair of silver earrings, which he put into his
glove, and then set out on another long walk,
seeing nothing at all till his eyes were gladdened
with the sight of a reindeer sledge.

"Have you found my earrings," said a woman,
who was the sole occupant of the vehicle;
"because if you have, you may as well hand
them over."

"Yes, I have found them, and I've got them
in my glove. You may take them, and welcome,
if you'll only drive me to some place where I
can find a little society."

To this very modest request the woman
replied by giving the Wanderer (as we shall call
him) such a blow with her spear that he fell
senseless. She then took the earrings, and rode
on as if nothing had happened.

The blow of the spear had a narcotic effect,
and the Wanderer passed a long time in sleep.
On resuming his dull journey across the boundless
desert he came to the site of another
encampment, again enjoyed the luxury of a
gnawed bone, and seeking in the snow for more,
discovered an iron shovel. This proved more
serviceable than the earrings, for a finely dressed
lady, who met him in a sledge shortly afterwards,
and asked for her shovel, rewarded his good
office in restoring it by driving him home to her
tent. They indulged in pleasant converse on
the way, the Wanderer talking about the
inhabitants of the seven hundred tents, and their
untimely end, of which the lady had heard
somewhat already, but desired to hear more, till at
last the dialogue took a new turn, through the
lad's remark that the reindeer in the sledge
were uncommonly like his late father's stock;
for the elderly gentleman who had presented
the lady with this fine pair of animals, and also
with the iron shovel, had intended them for
bridal gifts, in consideration of her approaching
marriage with his son. This son was clearly the
Wanderer, so that the happy lady had at once
found her intended husband and recovered her
lost shovel.

They lived together happily enough as man
and wife, till the time arrived for removing the
camp. Then the Wanderer discovered that,
although he had agreed very well with his wife,
he was far from popular with the inhabitants of
the neighbouring tents. When the tribe
commenced its march, he was provided with worse
reindeer than the rest, so that he always lagged
behind, and when at last a halt allowed him to
overtake his comrades, one of them artfully
contrived to run a spear through his body. The
party then moved merrily onwards, as if nothing
had happened, and though the bereaved lady
remained behind, weeping in her sledge, her
deer soon took fright and carried her after the
others. Dead as he was, the Wanderer retained
sense enough to be aware of the presence of an
old man, who had but one eye, one hand, and
one leg, and who, striking him with an iron
staff, bade him hasten back home, where he
would find his father and all his uncles alive.
Thus admonished, he woke up and found himself
alone, but, instead of following the old man's
salutary counsel, he rejoined his wife and
companions, who had again halted, and was rewarded
for his obstinacy by being killed again, with the
same weapon as before. This time his wife did
not think it worth while to stop behind and
weep, but continued her journey with the others,
firm in the conviction that he who had got up
once could easily get up twice. Nor was she
wrong. The detective old man again resuscitated
the dead Wanderer with a touch of his
iron staff, again advising him to return home,
and informing him that his father was not only
alive, but had been alive for some time. As the