The Kamtchadales are not only grateful for favors, but they think
it absolutely necessary to make some return for a present, and are
highly offended if it is refused. One of my Chinese servants, who was
a very good-hearted fellow, was so affected at the circumstance I
have told and the miserable appearance of the boy, that he went and
brought one of his blue Nankin shirts and made him a present of it.
All the Kamtchadales I met with were Christians of the Greek
persuasion, and appeared attentive to their devotions. Their
hospitality is excessive, and it is carried to an extreme amongst
themselves that becomes ridiculous. They pay one another visits which
last for a month or six weeks, until the generous host, finding his
stock of provisions exhausted, is forced to give a hint to his guest
to take his departure. This is managed by presenting to him at dinner
a dish called _tolkootha_, a kind of olio, or hodge-podge, composed
of a number of meats, fish, and vegetables, all mixed together, and
very difficult to prepare. It is the _dernier ressort_ of the master
of the house, and the moment this dish is served up the guests take
the hint and leave him the following day without feeling in the least
dissatisfied.
The first thing a traveller must do, on arriving at a Kamtchadale
house, is to treat the family with tea, of which they are excessively
fond. I once saw a Kamtchadale drink eleven half-pint bowls of tea
at a sitting, and he declared he could have completed the dozen had
there been water enough in the kettle. They speak very slowly, with
rather an effeminate voice, making use of the simplest language, but
almost always with good sense. When they do not wish to come to the
point directly they convey their meaning by some curious allegory,
having relation to bears, dogs, fishing, and hunting.