At break of day we found ourselves at the foot of a mountain, fifty wersts from Yamsk. The Koriacs have given it the name of _Babouschka_, or _grandmother_. The summit, they say, is the tomb of an old sorceress, equally renowned and formidable. My guides maintained that it was the loftiest mountain in this part of the world; but their superstitious fears seem to have magnified it, as, in my opinion, that of Villegui is much steeper, at least I found more difficulty in ascending it. Arrived at the top of the Babouschka, they placed iron cramps under their feet, in the form of small tripods, and fastened, transversely under the sledges, tolerably large sticks, in order to impede the velocity in descending. No farther care was necessary than that of guiding them with the _oschtol_, or stick pointed with iron, and we came to the bottom without any accident. The inhabitants of the country however consider this descent as dangerous, particularly when the inequalities are filled up with snow, which in that case become so many concealed and inevitable gulphs, and, I am inclined to believe, frequently prove fatal to travellers. In all probability, the dread which the Koriacs entertain of this Babouschka originated in the following manner. As a natural effect of their prejudice, they feel disposed to acts of gratitude the moment they find themselves out of danger. The Koriacs who attended me were eager to hang up their offering, which consisted of small quantities of tobacco, scraps of fish, pieces of iron, &c. upon the summit where they suppose the sorceress to sleep. Others had left there before them old cramps of iron, knives, arrows, and broken arms. I perceived a Tchouktchi javelin ornamented with ivory, and I advanced to seize it with a view of keeping it, but the cry of my conductors stopped me. “What would you do?” said one of them. “Are you desirous of ruining us? Such a sacrilege would draw down upon us the most dreadful calamities, and you would be unable to pursue your journey.” At this apostrophe I could have laughed in the face of the timid prophet, if I had not stood in need of the succour of these people. To continue to merit it, it was necessary to respect their error, and I assumed therefore a becoming gravity; but no sooner had they turned their backs, than I laid hold of this terrible arrow, as a monument of their absurd credulity.