In the idolatry of the Yakouts, we find all the absurdities and superstitious practices of the ancient Kamtschadales, Koriacs, Tchouktchis, and other inhabitants of these countries. They have however some more solid principles; and amidst the ridiculous fictions under which they are buried, we meet with ideas ingenious enough respecting the supreme being, miracles, and future rewards and punishments. But I was chiefly struck with the vivacity and singularity of their turn of mind. They delight in the fables drawn from their absurd mythology, and they relate them with all the confidence of credulity itself. By comparing them with our own, one is tempted no longer to hold in such esteem our ancient and modern fabulists, when we see this species of composition cultivated by such rivals. The two following fables were translated for me by Golikoff, word for word. There arose one day in a large lake, a violent contest between the different species of fish. The question was the establishment of a tribunal of supreme judges, whose business it should be to govern the whole finny tribe. The herring, and most diminutive fish, conceived that they had as much right to the prerogative as the salmon. From one thing to another the dispute became so warm that the small fish united in a body against the large, who took advantage of their weakness to insult and persecute them. Hence intestine and bloody wars that end in the destruction of one of the two parties. The vanquished, who escaped from being killed, fled to the small canals, and left the large fish, who had the victory, masters of the lake. Such is the law of the strongest. The other fable bears a greater resemblance to our old women’s tales, with which children are terrified, and the tediousness of a rustic evening beguiled. I should be apt to suspect that it was the production of a chaman.