Page:Morgan Philips Price - Siberia (1912).djvu/167

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LIFE IN A SIBERIAN VILLAGE
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ended with a little peroration. They were true Slavs, and even the severity of the Siberian climate did not freeze the stream of eloquence or chill the power of rhetoric which always seems to characterize the Russians.

Here then were the Hampdens of this remote Siberian village, sitting in conclave to withstand the little tyrants of their fields. And as I listened I wondered whether here in this village parliament there might not be some mute inglorious Milton, or a Cromwell eager to sweep away abuses. But for the fact that they were buried in the recesses of this remote spot, why should not some of them rise to fame and have a share of the pomp and glory of the world?

"Let not ambition mock their useful toil,
Their homely joys and destinies obscure,
Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile
The short and simple annals of the poor."

After talking for some ten minutes they agreed that one of their number should meet the peasant official to settle the claims of taxation, but I noticed that no vote was taken, and the opinion of the meeting was arrived at by mutual agreement. I then discovered that the next subject on the agenda appeared to be myself, and I was forthwith plied by the assembled company with all sorts of questions about myself and the land from whence I came, questions similar to those which the old ploughman had asked me the day before. These I answered to the best of my humble ability, but everywhere it was clear that the outlook of these peasants could not extend beyond this corner of the great Slavonic Empire in Northern