The Assembly discusses all matters affecting the Communal welfare, and, as these matters have never been legally defined, its recognised competence is very wide.  It fixes the time for making the hay, and the day for commencing the ploughing of the fallow field; it decrees what measures shall be employed against those who do not punctually pay their taxes; it decides whether a new member shall be admitted into the Commune, and whether an old member shall be allowed to change his domicile; it gives or withholds permission to erect new buildings on the Communal land; it prepares and signs all contracts which the Commune makes with one of its own members or with a stranger; it interferes whenever it thinks necessary in the domestic affairs of its members; it elects the Elder—­as well as the Communal tax-collector and watchman, where such offices exist—­and the Communal herd-boy; above all, it divides and allots the Communal land among the members as it thinks fit.

Of all these various proceedings the English reader may naturally assume that the elections are the most noisy and exciting.  In reality this is a mistake.  The elections produce little excitement, for the simple reason that, as a rule, no one desires to be elected.  Once, it is said, a peasant who had been guilty of some misdemeanor was informed by an Arbiter of the Peace—­a species of official of which I shall have occasion to speak in the sequel—­that he would be no longer capable of filling any Communal office; and instead of regretting this diminution of his civil rights, he bowed very low, and respectfully expressed his thanks for the new privilege which he had acquired.  This anecdote may not be true, but it illustrates the undoubted fact that the Russian peasant regards office as a burden rather than as an honour.  There is no civic ambition in those little rural commonwealths, whilst the privilege of wearing a bronze medal, which commands no respect, and the reception of a few roubles as salary afford no adequate compensation for the trouble, annoyance, and responsibility which a Village Elder has to bear.  The elections are therefore generally very tame and uninteresting.  The following description may serve as an illustration: 

It is a Sunday afternoon.  The peasants, male and female, have turned out in Sunday attire, and the bright costumes of the women help the sunshine to put a little rich colour into the scene, which is at ordinary times monotonously grey.  Slowly the crowd collects on the open space at the side of the church.  All classes of the population are represented.  On the extreme outskirts are a band of fair-haired, merry children—­some of them standing or lying on the grass and gazing attentively at the proceedings, and others running about and amusing themselves.  Close to these stand a group of young girls, convulsed with half-suppressed laughter.  The cause of their merriment is a youth of some seventeen summers, evidently the wag of the village, who stands beside them with