to conciliate him, "whatever course you decide upon I shall be happy to lend, or let you have"-amending her phrase with a smile" the half sovereign we were talking about." And drawing one from her purse, she laid it within his reach. "I must say that is acting like a trump," cried Trapes, clutching it eagerly. You couldn't make it a whole sov., eh ?" "I cannot indeed, you see I am far from rich."

"Well, well, come to terms with me, and you may ride on velvet the rest of your life."

"We will see about it. Good evening, Mr. Trapes."

She bowed him out politely, but decidedly, and he retired, Fanny holding a candle, and locking, bolting, and chaining the door carefully after him.

"What a fearful, dreadful, dishonest creature!" she cried, when she was safe in again, sitting down on the side of a chair. "The whole place smells of bad tobacco! Why would you not promise anything, Kate? I am afraid he will not tell a word that will do you any good unless you give him some money. Do you really think he knows all he says?"

"I do; but I must not have anything to do with him. I must leave him to Tom. Oh, Fanny, there is an awful time coming! I wish I was through it. Imagine having to prosecute Mr. Ford for forgery he was so respectable and kind and obliging-and then Hugh Galbraith! I do not seem able to face it all."

"No, indeed. I am sure it is enough to turn your brain. But as to Hugh Galbraith," insinuatingly, " you said you would tell me all about him.'

"And I will, Fan, I will! but not now. I could not now-indeed I could not -I want to think. Give me my writingbook." After arranging her writing materials as if about to begin a letter, Kate suddenly laid down her pen. No, I shall not tell Mr. Wall till I have seen Tom. Fanny, do take your work and sit opposite to me; I cannot bear you to creep about putting things away in that distractingly quiet fashion. Ah, dear, dear Fan! how cross and unreasonable I am-and to you who have been such a help and a comfort to me during my eclipse."

Have I really?-then I am worth

66

something. Never mind, the eclipse is nearly over, and won't you blaze out gloriously by-and-by!" Heaven knows! I fear the future more than I can say. I feel it is just a toss-up, apart from success or failure, whether my lot is to be happy or miserable; but it might be-oh, so happy!"

"I know," said Fanny significantly, and took up her needlework with her usual cheerful submission.

Mrs. Temple closed her writing-book, and drawing her chair to the fire, sat there in deep thought the rest of the evening, occasionally addressing a disjointed observation out of her meditations.

The night was nearly sleepless. At first the fatigue of the many emotions through which she had passed insured her an hour of forgetfulness, but she was disturbed by dreams. Again and again Hugh Galbraith stood before her with outstretched hand, asking her to place hers in it for ever, and she woke, her heart beating wildly, and sobbing out the words, "Yes, for ever, Hugh!"

Then her busy brain set to work revolving the events of the day. picturing their results-the most terrible was the impending ruin of Ford.

As regarded Galbraith, she was not quite without hope. But Ford-how could she spare him? A daring project suggested itself; she thought long, and turned it on every side; then, slipping gently out of bed, she lit her candle, wrapped herself in her dressing-gown, and stole softly, noiselessly downstairs to the shop parlor. Here she took out paper and pen, traced a few lines, enclosed them in an envelope, directed and stamped it, placed the letter carefully in her pocket, and crept back as noiselessly as she had descended.

"More harm than good I suspect," returned Fanny, disapprovingly; but she

THE Russian "Mi," or Village Commune, has in recent years acquired considerable notoriety in Western Europe. Historical investigators have discovered in it a remnant of primitive Indo-European institutions; and a certain school of social philosophers point to it as an ideal towards which we must strive if we would solve successfully the agrarian difficulties of the present and the future. "C'est une institution," said the usually cool-headed Cavour on hearing it described, "qui est destinée à faire le tour du monde !" Political economists, on the contrary—especially those of the good old orthodox school-condemn it as a remnant of barbarism, and as an obstacle to free individual action and untrammelled economic development. It may be well, therefore, that those who have had an opportunity of studying the institution, and observing its practical working, should explain clearly and accurately its nature and functions.

In the Russian Communal Institutions we must carefully distinguish two elements, the one administrative, and the other economic. And first of the administrative functions:

As an organ of local administration, the rural Commune in Russia is very simple and primitive. There is commonly but one office-bearer, the Village Elder" (Starosta, from stary, old); but in the larger Communes there is also a Communal tax-gatherer. The officebearers are simple peasants, chosen by their fellow-villagers for one, two, or three years, according to local custom. Their salaries are fixed by the Commune, and are so small that "office" in these village democracies is regarded rather as a burden than as an honor; but a peasant, when once chosen, must serve whether he desires it or not. If he can show good and sufficient reason-such as ill-health or frequent absence-why he should be

exempted, the Commune will generally free him from the burden on condition that he treats the members present with vodka (rye-spirit); but the simple desire to escape trouble and annoyance is not considered a valid ground for exemption. The chief duties of the Elder are to preserve order, and to act as a connecting link between the Commune and the higher authorities. Beyond this he has very little power, for all the real authority resides in the "Village Assembly."

The Village Assembly (selski skhod), in the wider sense of the term, comprises all the adult members of the Commune. When matters of great importance are under consideration, the heads of houses alone take an active part in the discussion. I say the heads of houses, and not the fathers of families, because the Russian term khozaïn (head of the househoid) does not indicate blood relationship; and it frequently happens that the patria potestas is in the hands of the oldest brother or of the mother. Thus, strictly speaking, the Assembly is composed of the representatives of families, and when the head of a family happens to be absent from the village, his place is taken by some other member of the household, male or female. In the northern provinces, where a large part of the adult male population annually leaves home in search of work, the female representatives sometimes compose the majority. The meetings are held in the open air by the side of the Church, or in front of the Elder's house, or in some other convenient place where there is plenty of room and little mud; and, except in the case of matters which will not admit of delay, they take place on Sunday or on a holiday. Towards afternoon, when all have enjoyed their after-dinner siesta-or it may be immediately after the morning service -the villagers may be seen strolling leisurely towards a common point. Arriv

66

66

ed at the village Forum, they cluster together in little groups, and talk in homely fashion about the matter they have met to consider. The various groups pay no attention to each other till gradually one particular group, containing some of the more intelligent and influential members, begins to exercise an attractive force, and the others gravitate towards this centre of energy. In this way the meeting is constituted, or, more strictly speaking, spontaneously constitutes itself; and the same absence of formality continues all through the proceedings. Two, three, or more peasants often speak at once, and when the discussion waxes hot, the disputants probably use freely such unparliamentary expressions as Durák!" (blockhead), ‘Boltun !" (babbler), “ Bolván!" (scarecrow)-sometimes even stronger expressions, unsuited to ears polite. Strange to say, these strong terms never ruffle the good nature of those to whom they are addressed, and at most evoke a retort of the tu quoque kind, which, if well put, produces roars of laughter. If we hear a shrill female voice rising above the general hum, we may be sure it is that of a widow, or a wife whose husband is absent. Some of these female members possess great volubility, and a considerable power of pungent invective; unfortunately their dialectical efforts are in part counteracted by a tendency to wander from the subject, and to make indelicate, irrelevant allusions to the private life and domestic concerns of their opponents. In general there are no attempts at speech-making, but occasionally some young "village Hampden," who has been to Moscow or St. Petersburg, and has brought back with him a jaunty air and a large dose of self-conceit, makes something like a speech, and enjoys the sound of his own voice. Eloquence of this kind is, of course, appreciated only by the younger members, and makes no impression on the bulk of the audience. Very soon it is sure to be interrupted by some older member with a laconic ‘Moltchi, krasnobaï !" (hold your tongue, fine talker!) and the abashed orator hearing the titter of his former applauders, mumbles out a retort, or hides his diminished head behind the broad shoulders of a comrade.

66

The subjects brought before these

meetings are of the most varied kind, for the Village Assembly has no idea of laws limiting its competence, and is ever ready to discuss anything affecting directly or indirectly the Communal welfare. It may be that an order has been. received from the higher authorities, or a recruit has to be given for the conscription, or a herd-boy has to be hired, or a day for the commencement of the ploughing has to be fixed, or the dam across the stream is in need of repairs. Such are a few examples of the matters discussed. The manner of deciding them is quite as informal as the mode of discussion. Rarely, if ever, is it necessary to put the question to the vote. As soon as it has become evident what the general opinion is, the Elder says to the crowd: "Well, Orthodox! you have decided so?" "Ladno! ladno!" (agreed!) replies the crowd, and the proceedings terminate, unless where the decision refers to some future contingency, in which case it is committed to writing and duly signed by all present. Those who cannot write affix a mark in the place of a signature. It is not a little remarkable that these apparently unanimous decisions do not always represent the will of the numerical majority. The crowd rarely ventures to oppose the will of the influential members.

The Commune no longer possesses any criminal jurisdiction over its members; but in the outlying provinces, ancient custom sometimes proves stronger than modern legislation. As one instance out of many which have come to my knowlledge, the following may be cited: In a village in the province of Samara, the Commune condemned a wife who had been convicted of matrimonial infidelity to be stripped, yoked to a cart, and driven through the village by the injured. spouse armed with a whip. This will recall to many a passage in the Germania of Tacitus: Pæna præsens et marito permissa; abscisis crinibus, nudatam, coram propinquis expellit domo maritus ac per omnem vicum verbere agit."

66

So much for the Commune as an organ of local self-government Let us now consider it as an economic unit. In this respect it has certain fundamental peculiarities which distinguish it from the Communal institutions of Western Europe; and in virtue of these peculiarities

it is often believed to be not only a Communal but at the same time Communistic organization. How far this belief is well founded will appear presently. The Commune is legally and actually the absolute proprietor of the Communal land, and distributes it among its members as it thinks fit, subject to no control except that of custom and traditional conceptions of justice. Further, the members are responsible, collectively and individually, not only for voluntary Communal obligations, but also for the taxes of every member. These are the two fundamental characteristics, and the two cohesive forces of the institution: a common proprietorship of the land, and a common responsibility for the taxes and other dues.

The Communal land is generally of three kinds: (1) the land in and around the village; (2) the arable land; and (3) the pasturage.

On the first of these each family has a wooden house, an inclosed yard, a cabbage-garden, and sometimes a plot for growing hemp. Here there is no community of ownership. The house and garden are hereditary property, on which there is only one restriction: the owner cannot sell, bequeath, or otherwise alienate them to any one who is not a member of the Commune.

The right of property in the arable land and pasturage is of an entirely different kind. Here each family has, strictly speaking, no right of property, but merely a right of terminable usufruct, and enjoys a quantity of land proportion ate to the number of males which the household contains. In other words, each member of the Commune, as soon as he begins to pay the poll-tax and other dues, receives a share of the Communal land. Thus the amount of land which each family enjoys is proportionate to the amount of taxation which it pays; and the taxes, which are nominally personal, are in reality transformed into a kind of land-tax.

To render this system equitable, it would be necessary to revise annually the tax-lists, and to inscribe only the adults. In reality neither of these conditions is fulfilled. The tax-lists are revised at long and irregular intervalsonly ten revisions have been made since 1719; and infants, adults, and octoge

narians are all inscribed promiscuously. The revenue officers pay no attention to the increase or decrease of the population during the intervals between the revisions, and exact from each Commune a sum corresponding to the number of members inscribed in the last revision lists.

The evil consequences of this system, when rigorously carried out, are graphically described in an official document of the year 1771, which might have been written at the present day: "In many places," it is there said, "the peasants distribute the land not according to the number of workers in each house, but according to the number of males inscribed in the revision list; whence it happens that, instead of the equality which ought to exist, some of the peasants have to bear a ruinous burden in the supporting of their families, and in the payment of their taxes. If, for example, in a family containing five males, there is only one able-bodied laborer, whilst the other four are children or old men incapable of work, the one laborer must not only plough and sow for the whole family, but must also pay the poll-tax and other dues for the four others as well as for himself. He receives, it is true, a proportionately large amount of land; but it is of little use to him, for he has not sufficient working power to cultivate it. Obliged to let to others the superfluous amount, he receives for it only a small rent, for his neighbors know the position in which he is placed, and do not give him its fair value. Besides this, in some places where land is abundant, there is no one to rent the superfluous portions, so that the unfortunate peasant who receives too much land is obliged to leave his share partly uncultivated, and consequently sinks to ruin."

To prevent these evil consequences, many Communes have adopted an expedient at once simple and effective in the allotment of the land and of the burdens, each family receives a share not in proportion to the number of males which it contains, but in proportion to its working power.

This expedient has for the moment the desired effect, but the natural course of events in the form of births and deaths renders it necessary to modify from time to time the existing arrangements, so as

to restore the equilibrium between land and working power. First, there is the natural increase of population. To provide for this, some Communes keep a number of reserve lots, which the young members receive as soon as they become capable of bearing their share of the Communal burdens. Other Communes make no such arrangements. Whether such a provision is made or not, it inevitably happens that in the course of a few years the old evils reappear. Some families increase, whilst others diminish or die out, and a general redistribution of the land and taxes becomes necessary. In the Steppe region, where the soil is even in quality, and possessed of such natural fertility that it requires no manure-where consequently it is easy to divide the land into any number of portions equal to each other in size and quality, and no one has a special interest in particular lots, for the simple reason that one lot is as good as another-the general redistributions are frequent. Under such conditions annual redistribution is by no means uncommon. In the North and West, on the contrary, where the inequalities of the soil render it difficult to divide the land into lots of equal quality, and where the practice of manuring gives to each family a special interest in the lot which it actually possesses, general redistributions produce an economic revolution in the Commune, and are consequently made at much longer intervals.

As these periodical redistributions of the land form the essential peculiarity of the Russian Communal system, and tend to illustrate its real nature, I shall endeavor to convey to the reader an idea of the way in which they are effected. Let us take first a case in which the operation is comparatively simple.

All over European Russia, except in the outlying provinces, which may for the present be left out of consideration, the arable land of the Communes is divided into three fields, to suit the triennial rotation or three-field system of agriculture universally practised by the peasantry. The first field is for the winter grain (rye or winter wheat); the second for the summer grain (oats, buckwheat, millet, &c.); and the third lies fallow. When a redistribution has been resolved upon, each of the three fields is divided into an indefinite number of plots, accord

ing to the quality of the soil, and each plot or each category of plots-if there are several plots of equal quality—is then subdivided into a number of long narrow strips, corresponding to the number of "Revision-Souls" (males inscribed in the revision or census lists) in the Commune. Thus each family receives at least one strip-and perhaps several strips of different quality-in each field. This complicated bit of land-surveying, in which both the quality and quantity of the soil have to be considered, is performed by the peasants themselves, with the help merely of simple measuring poles, and is accomplished with an accuracy which seems to the stranger truly marvellous. The shares are distributed among the members either by general consent or by casting lots..

This is the method commonly employed in the fertile and more densely populated regions where each family desires to have as much land as possible, and demands a number of shares corresponding to the number of "revision-souls" which it contains. In districts, on the contrary, where the land is barren and the population scant, considerable modifications have to be introduced, in order to obviate the evil consequences above described. Here the chief question is, not as to how much land each family shall receive, but as to what share of the communal burdens each family ought to bear; and for the deciding of this question the revision-lists supply only very imperfect data. It may be, for instance, that a family appears in the revision-list as containing four males, and consequently as entitled to four shares of the land and burdens, but on examination it is found that the household consists of a widow and four little boys. To impose four shares on this family would be at once unjust and inexpedient, for the widow could not possibly pay a corresponding amount of taxation; and the Commune, being responsible for the taxes of the individual members, would have to make up the deficit. Before assigning the lots, therefore, the Commune has to decide how many shares each particular family shall receive. In this difficult operation, it is guided, not by any definite norm, but by an approximate calculation of the working force or tax-paying power of each individual household. When we