The people that inhabit the Arctic Lands are few in number and generally but little above the condition of savages. In stature they are below the medium height, and in appearance far from beautiful. Cleanliness is not one of their virtues. Male and female dress nearly in precisely the same costume, and in winter when they are enveloped in their garments of skins they look vastly like a fur bag surmounted by a head. Nearly all these Northern races are or have been idolaters, and are full of all manner of superstitions. Many are the attempts that have been made to bring Christianity to them, and heroic are the struggles and labors that have been borne, and are to-day being borne by zealous ministers. The pay of the Lapland or Icelandic priest is rarely more than $150 a year, so that his life is one of severe labor. Among the Lapps, who inhabit the Scandinavian Peninsula, the value of a pastor is estimated by the strength of his voice, and consequently his sermons must be delivered in the most sonorous tones if he would not have the contempt and neglect of his people.

In spite of all these resonant teachings, however, the Lapp is very far from forgetting the superstitions that have come down to him from his fathers. One tribe carry about with them on their travels their gods, which are but conical pieces of stone. Sorcerers exist who pretend to see the future and to give answers from the other world, and witches who profess to control the winds. Such was the belief in their powers, that it is said that at one time it was no rare thing for English ships to stop at Archangel to buy a wind. Perhaps the most curious of these superstitions, however, is the reverence with which the bear is regarded. To the Lapp, the bear is the wisest of animals; he can understand every word spoken and hence is always mentioned with respect. It may seem strange that so wise an animal should ever be hunted and slain, but the temptation he offers is a strong one. His furry coat makes the best kind of winter garments, and his flesh is thought a great treat. Therefore the hunter after always begging his pardon for the insult about to be offered hastens to drive his lance into his heart. It is considered most disgraceful to kill a bear when sleeping, so that if bruin meets his death it is always in the open field. When the hunters return home with the body, they are greeted by the women with words of scorn; the entrances to the huts are barred against them, and they are obliged to force an entrance to their own hearths. In this way it is believed the spirit of the bear is appeased. His bones are always buried in the same way, first the head, then the neck, body, etc., for the Lapp believes in the bear’s resurrection and fears his wrath should he come to life and find his bones treated with indignity.

This reverence does not, however, extend to the wolf, for this is an accursed animal. On his snow-shoes, and bearing in one hand a long pole with which to steer himself, the hunter follows swiftly on the wolf’s tracks, and overtaking him beats out his brains with a club, which as a polluted thing he is careful to burn at once. Nor will he demean himself to touch the skin of his victim, but leaves it to be devoured by any animal that may chance to find it. The great occupation of the Laplander is the care of herds of reindeer, and no doubt the great detestation in which the wolf is held is owing to the injury he inflicts upon the herdsman.

The hut of the Lapp is but a poor affair. Its frame is a few poles bent together at the top, its walls skins sewed together. The floor is covered with skins, in its centre flames a smoky fire, and about it sleeps the owner of the house curled up in a heap like one of his dogs.

Such a hut as this would be of little use to the Esquimau, who lives far to the northward on the American continent amid perpetual snow. His house is most ingeniously formed. With solid blocks of snow about a foot in thickness, he builds its circular wall and dome-like roof. A tunnel-like entrance is made through which he enters on hands and feet, while a block of snow fills the narrow doorway keeping out the cold air. With his skins spread out upon the floor and his oil lamp lighted, he soon has a temperature which is perhaps as much too warm as the outer air is too cold. The arctic explorer sometimes comes upon a village of such huts clustered under some protecting cliff or near some favorite hunting or fishing ground.

The Esquimau is a hearty eater. The intense cold to which he is always exposed gives him a raging appetite. Parry once made trial of the ability of a young man, who was furnished with all the food he wished. In twenty hours he had eaten eight and a half pounds of meat, nearly two pounds of bread, a pint and a quarter of rich soup, a tumbler and three wine glasses of spirits, and over a gallon of water. But the Esquimau is not alone in his appetite. At Jakutsk in Siberia, Sir George Simpson gave two natives each thirty six pounds of boiled beef, while the same amount of melted butter was put before them to drink. They entered upon their undertaking with great zest. One was old, the other young. The younger man at first seemed to make the greater headway. “His teeth are good,” said his older opponent, “but with the help of my saint, (crossing himself) I will soon come up to him.” His was no idle boast, for in an hour all was devoured and the gorged champions, lying upon the floor, respectfully kissed the ground in token of gratitude to their benefactor.

When the Esquimau wishes to travel, he fastens his dogs to a light sledge by long traces, and whip in hand with his fur skins drawn about him takes his seat upon it, and is whirled over the snow at tremendous speed. His whip is a curious affair. From the end of a stock only about a foot long, extends a lash of some twenty feet. Woe to the unfortunate driver who does not know how to use this lash, and to be able to bring a resounding blow on the ear of an unruly dog. The fresh track of a bear is scented and the whole pack is away like a whirlwind, while the rider tumbled off his sledge by collision with some hummock of ice is left to get home on foot as best he can. Dr. Hayes tells of his experience. “The wind was blowing at my back, and when I had gone far enough and wanted to turn around and return, the dogs were not so minded. There is nothing they dislike so much as to face the wind, and feeling very fresh they were evidently ready for sport. After much difficulty I brought them at last up to the course, but I could keep them there only by constant use of the lash, and since this was three out of four times blown back into my face, it was evident I could not hold out long, besides my face was freezing in the wind. My arm, not used to such violent exercise, soon fell almost paralyzed, and the whip-lash trailed behind me on the snow. The dogs were not slow to discover something wrong. They looked back over their shoulders inquiringly, and discovering that the lash was not coming they ventured to diverge gently to the right. Finding the effort not resisted they gained courage, and increased their speed, and at length they wheeled short round, turned their tails to the wind and dashed off on their own course, as happy as a parcel of boys freed from the restraints of the school-room, and with the wild rush of a dozen wolves. I could soon again use the whip, and managed to turn the intractable team among a cluster of hummocks and snow drifts, which somewhat impeded their progress. Springing suddenly off, I capsized the sledge. The points of the runners were driven deeply into the snow, and my runaways were anchored. A vigorous application of my sinew-tipped lash, soon convinced them of the advantages of obedience, and they trotted off in the meekest manner facing the wind without rebelling.”

The Esquimaux extend over the whole continent of North America; but in Asia we find several distinct tribes. Such are the Samojedes, the Ostjaks, the Jakuts, the Tungusi, and others. But while they differ in minor points, they are alike in general appearance and in their mode of life. Among all the arctic nations settlements have been attempted, but they are but poor affairs inhabited by only a few venturesome trappers or traders whom hope of great gain alone can tempt to lead such a forlorn life. Of all these northern settlements, none is more mournful than that of Siberia. Here come every week long trains of prisoners whom the Russian government banishes to this prison land. Political offenders, criminals, even the roaming vagabond, all go to Siberia. Twelve thousand are thus annually added to its population. The place allotted to each depends on his crime. The worse this has been, the more northerly his place. Murderers and burglars go to the mines at Nertschinsk, from which they never emerge alive. But the ordinary criminal has every inducement to reform and become a good citizen. A piece of good land is given him, with a horse, two cows, a hut, and the necessary tools to till the ground. For several years he has to pay no taxes, so that if a sensible and industrious man he may often attain a degree of comfort which he never dreamed of in his former days.

These Siberian peasants are said to be men of great strength and capable of resisting the most intense cold, and Russia is said to have no finer subjects than the children of those whom she thus compels to colonize her frozen regions. In addition to the occupation of tilling the soil, a vast number of people are employed as carriers. The great quantities of silver, copper and lead produced by the mines at Nertschinsk, have to be transported across the country to the markets of Russia, and the provisions required by the thousands of workmen have in turn to be carried back to the mines.

Small are the chances of success to the bold man who attempts to escape. Everywhere are the active soldiers, and should he make his way through them, the vast deserts and forests are peopled by a savage race, who are allowed by the Russian government to drive an arrow through any stranger not of their own tribe whom they may find wandering through their territory.