inks necessary in the domestic affairs of its members; it
elects the Elder--as well as the Communal tax-collector and watchman,
where such offices exist--and the Communal herd-boy; above all, it
divides and allots the Communal land among the members as it thinks fit.

Of all these various proceedings the English reader may naturally assume
that the elections are the most noisy and exciting. In reality this is a
mistake. The elections produce little excitement, for the simple reason
that, as a rule, no one desires to be elected. Once, it is said, a
peasant who had been guilty of some misdemeanor was informed by an
Arbiter of the Peace--a species of official of which I shall have
occasion to speak in the sequel--that he would be no longer capable of
filling any Communal office; and instead of regretting this diminution
of his civil rights, he bowed very low, and respectfully expressed his
thanks for the new privilege which he had acquired. This anecdote may
not be true, but it illustrates the undoubted fact that the Russian
peasant regards office as a burden rather than as an honour. There is no
civic ambition in those little rural commonwealths, whilst the privilege
of wearing a bronze medal, which commands no respect, and the reception
of a few roubles as salary afford no adequate compensation for the
trouble, annoyance, and responsibility which a Village Elder has to
bear. The elections are therefore generally very tame and uninteresting.
The following description may serve as an illustration:

It is a Sunday afternoon. The peasants, male and female, have turned out
in Sunday attire, and the bright costumes of the women help the sunshine
to put a little rich colour into the scene, which is at ordinary times
monotonously grey. Slowly the crowd collects on the open space at the
side of the church. All classes of the population are represented. On
the extreme outskirts are a band of fair-haired, merry children--some
of them standing or lying on the grass and gazing attentively at the
proceedings, and others running about and amusing themselves. Close
to these stand a group of young girls, convulsed with half-suppressed
laughter. The cause of their merriment is a youth of some seventeen
summers, evidently the wag of the village, who stands beside them with
an accordion in his hand, and relates to them in a half-whisper how he
is about to be elected Elder, and what mad pranks he will play in that
capacity. When one of the g