There is a peculiar mushroom in Northeastern Siberia spotted like a leopard and surmounted with a small hood.  It grows in other parts of Russia, where it is poisonous, but among the Koriaks it is simply intoxicating.  When one finds a mushroom of this kind he can sell it for three or four reindeer.  So powerful is this fungus that the fortunate native who eats it remains drunk for several days.  By a process of transmission which I will not describe, as it might offend fastidious persons, half a dozen individuals may successively enjoy the effects of a single mushroom, each of them in a less degree than his predecessor.

Like savages every where, these northern natives are greatly pleased with pictures and study them attentively.  I heard that several copies of American illustrated papers were circulating among the Chukchees, who handled them with great care.  There is a superstitious reverence for pictures mingled with childlike curiosity.  People possessing no written language find the pictorial representations of the civilized world the nearest approach to savage hieroglyphics.

The telegraph was an object of great wonder to all the natives.  In Ghijiga a few hundred yards of wire were put up in the spring of 1866.  Crowds gathered to see the curiosity, and many messages were exchanged to prove that the machine really spoke.  At Anadyrsk Captain Kennan arranged a small battery and held in his pocket the key that controlled the circuit.  Then the marvel began.  The instrument told when persons entered or left the room, when any thing was taken from the table without permission, or any impropriety committed.  Even covered with a piece of deer skin, it could see distinctly.  With the human tendency to ascribe to the devil anything not understood, these natives looked upon the telegraph as supernatural.  As it showed no desire to harm them, they exhibited no fear but abundance of respect.

The Chukchees and Koriaks are creditable workers in metals and ivory.  I saw animal representations rudely but well cut in ivory, and spear-heads that would do credit to any blacksmith.  Their hunting knives, made from hoop-iron, are well fashioned, and some of the handles are tastefully inlaid with copper, brass, and silver.  In trimming their garments they are very skillful, and cut bits of deerskin into various fantastic shapes.

At Ghijiga I bought a kotlanka, intending to wear it in my winter travel.  Its sleeves were purposely very long, and the hood had a wide fringe of dogskin to shield the face.  I could never put the thing on with ease, and ultimately sold it to a curiosity hunter.  Gloves and mittens, lined with squirrel skin, are made at Ghijiga, and worn in all the region within a thousand miles.

A great hindrance to winter travel in Northeastern Siberia is the prevalence of poorgas, or snow storms with wind.  On the bleak tundras where there is no shelter, the poorgas sweep with pitiless severity.  Some last but a few hours, with the thermometer ten or twenty degrees below zero.  Sometimes the wind takes up whole masses of snow and forms drifts several feet deep in a few moments.  Travelers, dogs, and sledges are frequently buried out of sight, and remain in the snow till the storm is over.