* VILLAGE *

* Houses and buildings stand so close, so sometimes it was impossible to drive on the two-wheeler between them. You could drive only down the street, and cattle runs. To explain such overcrowding, a desire to save the land is absurd since there is a lot of land in the North.
     The laity built houses close by, driven by a sense of convergence and desire to be one with all. In case of a fire, the whole parish would attack the fire, and the poor, orphans, and widows helped all together, paid taxes as one unit, and delegates and soldiers were chosen together. All that was said about the county is inherent in the village, only in a narrower sense.
 Each village had a religious holiday, winter and summer; the rich villages always built their chapel.
    Every grief and happiness in the village was visible. The people knew everything about everybody, no matter how scrupulous people were trying not to wash dirty linen in public. Others, more reckless, saying what the heck or naively, even laid out unnecessary details at the court of public opinion. But this court has always been selective: one thing it would take seriously, others not so, but the third it did not notice.
For a man, there was nothing more terrible than loneliness. Even the bad-tempered, unsociable nature layman had (at least formally) to observe the communication custom, visit the family, talk with neighbours, and bow with all the Orthodox people. This formalism in contact was always very noticeable and incredibly well-sensed by children and animals. Beggars, too, almost always accurately determined the measure of sincerity of alms. If evil and solitary were doing (by necessity) good deeds, then what to talk about people by nature good, humane and gentle.
The village's opinion is paid back to every one according to their true self. An atheist was an atheist; a drunkard was a drunkard. You cannot hide behind any pretences. An honourable man in the parish was known and revered in his village and far outside the county. Those people were often industrious, kind, sometimes wealthy, but often not.
In the village, mutual assistance had been worked out to the last detail. Borrowing money was inappropriate, but people were willing to give and take everything else. Men borrowed leather, ropes, tar, birch bark, and grain from each other. It was possible to borrow the field equipment and a horse with a harness. Women kept borrowing and lending utensils and dairy products. When their own cows had not yet been with milk, it was customary to take milk in debt, with close relatives, as a gift. People borrowed even samovar coals or bread leaven when suddenly you couldn't find it at the house.
    People helped each other in big and small. Roll logs around the corner, babysit a child or grab something on the way to a neighbour - all this was considered a trifling favour. But how pleasant it was for you and the neighbour! There was an invisible threshold, a borrowing limit in all of this. To go to propose is still better to do in your own sleigh, and asking daily for the scales is not very handy...
All public issues - building roads, fences, walls, bridges - were addressed at public meetings. By the decision of the public gathering, night duty (patrol) was usually set.
In the 20s of the last century, it was combined with the duty of police constables in some places. Police constables organized public gatherings, gave lodging to pilgrims, and walked or drove on coaches for blind and orphans. A sign of the police constable was a plaque on the stake, put to a neighbour's gate after "patrolling" was done.
Your village was a home without any exaggeration. Even the most wicked apostate or drunkard, put by fate nowhere beyond the land's end, strove to go home. He knew that in his village, he would find sympathy, understanding, and forgiveness, even if he committed a sin ... And what could be more fruitful for an awakening conscience? To tear off a man from his homeland meant to destroy the economic and moral basis of his life.