called, for want of a better name, a hospital,
accompanied by my two soldier friends. Here
things were slightly better. At least our
food was served on plates and we had mugs
out of which to drink. But dirt, cobwebs,
etc., were visible in this place also. The bath
was attached to the house, so in I went—to
find myself in an atmosphere something like a
steam laundry when the steam has escaped.
Once inside, I discovered that it was usual to
be accompanied by an aged woman whose
business it is to scrub the backs of the bathers
and assist generally in removing dirt. So
naturally did this woman offer her assistance
that I almost succumbed to her endeavours to
persuade me to allow her to carry out her
duties. But being born in England and consequently
unduly modest, it was impossible to
bring myself to allow her to do the job. When
I left the bath, I had to run the gauntlet of a
laughing good-natured group of women, to
whom the story of my conduct had no doubt
been told.
This incident shows how natural the relationships between men and women are in these countries. I am certain if I told in England that such things happen in Russia, many people ignorant of the fact that it is a custom in Finland and other Scandinavian countries will at once cry out about the immorality and vice of the Bolsheviks.
