They have a
peculiar way of mystifying the exciseman as to the number of leaves on a
string, for this is the regulation way of reckoning; besides which,
wholesale smuggling goes on at times, and waggon-loads are got away.
Occasionally there is a fight between the officials and the peasants.
I had intended getting on to Kronstadt the next day, but I stopped at
the Saxon village of Zeiden. The clergyman, on hearing that there was a
stranger in the place, hastened to the inn, where he found me calmly
discussing my mid-day meal. He would not hear of my going on to
Kronstadt, but kindly invited me to be his guest. I heard a great deal
later of his unvarying hospitality to strangers.
The next day being Sunday, of course I went to church with my host. The
congregation, including their pastor, wore the costume of the middle
ages; it was a most curious and interesting sight. I am never a good
hand at describing the details of dress, but I know my impression was
that the pastor--wearing a ruff, I think, or something like it--might
just have walked out of a picture, such as one knows so well of the old
Puritans in Cromwell's time. The dress of the peasants, though unlike
the English fashion of any period, had an old-world look. The married
women wore white kerchiefs twisted round the head, sleeveless jackets,
with a mystery of lace adornments. The marriageable girls sat together
in one part of the church, which I thought very funny; they wore
drum-shaped hats poised on the head in a droll sort of way.
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