All the Kamtschadales of this village, men and women, are chamans, or believers in the witchcraft of these pretended sorcerers. They dread to an excess the popes or Russian priests, for whom they entertain the most inveterate hatred. They do all they can to avoid meeting them. This is sometimes impossible, and in that case, when they find them at hand they act the hypocrite, and make their escape the first opportunity that offers. I attribute this fear to the ardent zeal which these priests have doubtless shown for the extirpation of idolatry, and which the Kamtschadales consider as persecution. They accordingly look upon them as their greatest enemies. Perhaps they have reason to believe, that in wishing to convert them, the overthrow of their idols was not the only thing these missionaries had in view. These popes probably set them no example of the virtues upon which they declaim. It is suspected that their object is the acquisition of wealth, rather than of proselytes, and the gratification of their inordinate propensity to drunkenness. It is not therefore to be wondered at that the inhabitants retain their ancient errors. They pay a secret homage to their god _Koutka_[69], and place in him so entire a confidence, that they address their prayers exclusively to him when they are desirous of obtaining any boon, or of engaging in any enterprise. When they go to the chace, they abstain from washing themselves, and are careful not to make the sign of the cross: they invoke their Koutka, and the first animal they catch is immediately sacrificed to him. After this act of devotion they conceive that their chace will be successful; on the contrary, if they were to cross themselves, they would despair of catching any thing. It is also a part of their superstition to consecrate to Koutka their new-born children, who, the moment they have left their cradle, are destined to become chamans. The veneration of the inhabitants of this village for sorcerers can scarcely be conceived; it approaches to insanity, and is really to be pitied; for the extravagant and wild absurdities by which these magicians keep alive the credulity of their compatriots, excites our indignation rather than our laughter. At present they do not profess their art openly, or give the same splendour they once did to their necromancy. They no longer decorate their garments with mystic rings and other symbolic figures of metal, that jingled together upon the slightest motion of their body. In like manner they have abandoned the kind of kettle[70], which they used to strike with a sort of musical intonation in their pretended enchantments, and with which they announced their approach. In short, they have forsaken all their magic instruments. The following are the ceremonies they observe in their assemblies, which they are careful to hold in secret, though not the less frequently on that account. Conceive of a circle of spectators, stupidly rapt in