vations on such characteristics as I have noted in my experiences, and as appear pertinent to the general question under consideration.

The first great point to note is, that the Russian soldier is generally recruited among an agricultural and peasant population. Of the total population of the empire, estimated at 102,978,600, somewhat less than 7 per cent are the inhabitants of towns containing over 20,000 inhabitants; and out of this small percentage considerable numbers belong to the migratory population which frequent the towns as temporary wage-earners at different industries, but whose homes, families, and permanent interests are all in the country. The Armed Strength of Russia' gives the following interesting details concerning the 218,000 recruits who formed the contingent for 1883. The total number of men liable for the contingent was 835,421; of these 436,092 claimed rights of exemption, and of the remainder, 218,000 were chosen by lot, and finally 214,133 were taken for actual service. Of the 214,133 recruits, 184,167, or, roughly speaking, 90 per cent, belonged to the peasant class; 46,564 could read and write, or read only; and 162,780, or upwards of three-fourths of the whole number, could neither read nor write.

The figures quoted above are very instructive, as showing the class of raw material from which the Russian soldier is made. The Russian peasantry is probably the most non-military class to be found in Europe. The moment the soldier gets out of his uniform he reverts completely to his original condition, and after twelve months' absence from the colours he is, on

rejoining, little better than a new recruit. He seems to take no pride in his uniform, he hates the irksomeness of military discipline, and he particularly hates fighting. In the latter respect, the character of the Russian peasant is indeed most remarkable. "In vino veritas" is a familiar adage; and when the moujik is drunk he desires to embrace everybody, and his would-be politeness is extraordinary. On one occasion I had myself a sufficiently unpleasant personal experience of this over politeness. I was to pass the night in a peasant's house, where the accommodation was limited to some hay and my rug on the floor. My host had made the few arrangements possible for my comfort; and at an early hour, when his family betook themselves to the top of the great brick stove,1 and I was about to seek the floor, the good man announced that he had to go out "on business," but that he would not be long, and would not disturb me on his return. Whether he was absent long or not I cannot say, but I have a vivid recollection of his ideas of not disturbing me. He came in drunk, and began by deliberately waking me to ask if I was comfortable. He then proposed the dirty sheepskin he was wearing as a suitable addition to my pillow arrangements, and insisted on trying to place it under my head. When I at last induced him to join his family on the stove, he kept calling at intervals to know whether I was sleeping well, and expatiating audibly to himself on my merits as a worthy gentleman; and finally, in spite of the muttering reproofs of female voices from the family couch, he descended once more into the room, and begging me to smoke to while away the time, he said he

thought he had better get me some tea, as I was evidently dull and out of sorts. As the proposition for me to smoke included his doing the same himself with the foulest and strongest tobacco, I fairly lost my temper, and peremptorily ordered him to once more join the ladies aloft, using my strongest vocabulary to explain that there would be unpleasant consequences if he again came down. Realising that I was in earnest, he was immediately most submissive and apologetic, and retired, to trouble me no more. This incident is quite typical of the traits of a drunken peasant, and shows both his goodhumour and his ready recognition of authority.

Further characteristics of the moujik are his dogged determination and patience under difficulties, both qualities of the highest value in a soldier. He is, under ordinary circumstances, a soft-hearted, good-natured fellow; but there are savage instincts in his semi-barbarous nature which render him capable of almost any brutality if he is once thoroughly excited. The awful atrocities committed during the late persecutions of the Jews are still fresh in our minds, and bear witness to the savagery of the Russian peasant; and the treatment experienced by the Turcomans, both after the capture of Khiva and the fall of Geok Tepe, show that, at all events in Asia, the authorities even encourage the worst passions of the soldier. Perhaps Skoboleff's greatest quality as a successful general was his thorough appreciation of the peculiarities of the men he commanded. He had a wonderful hold on their sympathies, and he enjoyed a popularity with the rank and file such as no other Russian general has ever acquired. It was Skoboleff who conducted the pursuit and harrying of the wretched Yomud

Turcomans after Khiva, so vividly described by his friend and admirer, the American correspondent MacGahan; and it was Skoboleff who, after the storming of Geok Tepe, and the rout of its brave Tekke defenders, gave twenty-four hours' complete liberty to his excited soldiers to work their wicked will on the persons and property of the defenceless families of the dispersed Turcomans. Skoboleff thoroughly understood his men, and re-established his control as deliberately as he permitted unbridled licence. For exactly twenty-four hours the captors of Geok Tepe were uncontrolled; within six hours of the termination of that period, two soldiers were shot for trifling crimes. This circumstance, coupled with the fact of Skoboleff's great popularity in the army, gives a striking indication of the character of the Russian soldier, as judged by the man who knew him best.

The dogged patient courage with which the Russian faces difficulty and suffering attracted universal attention and admiration when the Russian army crossed the Balkans in mid-winter, after the fall of Plevna. Sleeping on the snow, frost-bitten and hungry, the peasant soldier struggled on, dragging his guns and his waggons over the icecoated rocks and through the forest snow-drifts.

It was a marvellous example of stubborn endurance. But to those who know the peculiar qualities of the Russian peasant, it was not a surprising performance.

As an instance of the peasant's patient determination, I may mention an incident of my personal experience. I was undertaking a long journey by sledge before the winter roads were properly established. A considerable part of the way I was necessarily following the course of a frozen river full of holes, and in many places most unsafe. Along one very bad stretch,