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MAP OF THE ROUTE

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FIVE THOUSAND MILES

- IN A SLEDGE

A MID-WINTER JOURNEY. ACROSS SIBERIA

BY
LIONEL F. GOWING

WITH 31 ILLUSTRATIONS BY C. J. UREN, AND A MAP

NEW YORK
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
1890
Dedicated

TO THE MEMORY OF

CHARLES JOSEPH UREN

Died September 17, 1887
viii PREFACE

experiences; but Siberia under frost and snow differs so
vastly from Siberia in the aspects in which Dr. Lansdell,
for instance, has described it, that an apology for the present
account is less needed than it might otherwise be. Asa
record of a journey under conditions utterly strange to most
English readers it is hoped that it will not be found without
interest, though the illness and subsequent death of the com-
rade, from whose keen observation, as well as from his facile
pencil, the author had anticipated great and valuable assist-
ance, have undoubtedly robbed it of much of its interest.

But although the author has tried to avoid touching
upon questions in regard to which a superficial observation
might have led him into error, there is one subject on which
it is impossible for him to be altogether silent. ‘ What is
the truth about the convict system?’ ‘Is the fate of the
exiles as terrible as has been represented?’ These are the
questions with which one who has recently been in Siberia
is assailed on every hand. And since such knowledge as
the author has been enabled to glean on these subjects has
been entirely gained at second hand, it is perhaps better
that the question should be dealt with here than in the body
of the work.

In 1879 the Rev. Dr. Henry Lansdell travelled. through
Siberia, armed with a letter from the Minister of the
Interior which opened all the prison doors to him. On his
return to England he published an account of his travels
PREFACE ix

in which he completely whitewashed the Russian authorities
and expressed the conviction that, ‘on the whole, if a
Russian exile behaves himself decently well, he may in
Siberia be more comfortable than in many, and as comfort-
able as in most, of the prisons of the world.’ In 1885 Mr.
George Kennan, accompanied by Mr. George A. Frost, started
on an expedition to Siberia for the express purpose of ‘ mak-
ing a careful study of the exile system.’ The judgment he
had at that time formed was, he tells us, that the system
had been ‘ greatly misrepresented by prejudiced writers.’
So he informed Mr. Vlangalli, the then Assistant Minister
of Foreign Affairs. Since then Mr. Kennan has published
to the world some of the results of his investigations. And
‘if,’ he says, ‘ the opinions which I now hold differ from those
which I expressed to Mr. Vlangalli in 1885, it is not because
I was then insincere, but because my views have since been
changed by an overwhelming mass of evidence.’

Which opinion is correct—that of Dr. Lansdell, or that
of Mr. George Kennan? The present author can claim
perfect impartiality on the question. So far as the dispu-
tants, if they may be called so, are concerned, his personal
sympathies would be with Dr. Lansdell, through whose kind-
ness in providing him with a general introduction he made
many valued friends during his journey; and the unvaried
kindness and courtesy which he received from Russian officials

and people would have been enough to dismiss from his
x PREFACE

mind any prejudice, had it existed, against Russia or the
Russian Government. But such information as he and his
companion were able to gather was totally opposed to the
opinions of Dr. Lansdell and in accord with the conclusions
to which the later traveller has come. The very difference
in the methods of the two men and their fitness for the task
of investigation is sufficient of itself to raise a strong pre-
sumption as to the side on which truth lies. The one fact
that Dr. Lansdell was ignorant of the language and was
compelled,in regard to everything which he did not actually
see with his own eyes, to rely almost entirely upon such
information as the Government officials chose to supply him
with, renders his account prima facie of infinitely less value
than that of Mr. Kennan, whose familiarity with Russian
enabled him to gather his information from innumerable
sources.

The present author’s direct experience on the subject is
confined to the meeting of a few convoys of exiles on the
road, and to the casual inspection of the outside walls of
several prisons and étapes. But he was able to gather the
opinions of foreign residents in Siberia as to the accuracy of
Dr. Lansdell’s account. There were but two, it is true,
who appeared willing to open their minds quite freely on
the point, most of the others being more or less closely con-
nected with the Russian administrative system. But these

two were both men to whose extensive knowledge of Asiatic
PREFACE xi

Russia Dr. Lansdell was indebted for many of the facts
related in ‘ Through Siberia ;’ and they are both emphatic-
ally of the opinion that the learned doctor had been imposed
upon. ‘Don’t you think,’ asked Mr. Uren of one of them,
‘that things were ‘‘set up” for Dr. Lansdell in the prisons
—that they “saw him coming’’?’ ‘Undoubtedly,’ was the
reply. ‘Still,’ remarked the present writer, the stories which
used to be related in England of the sufferings of political
prisoners in Siberia, were doubtless to some extent exagge-
rated?’ ‘Hardly at all; it would hardly be possible to
exaggerate them,’ was the rejoinder.

In his more recent work on ‘Russian Central Asia,’
Dr. Lansdell has replied at great length to those who
argued that he had been deceived by the Russian prison
authorities, who had been warned beforehand of his visits.
He admits, however, that two of his friends living in
Siberia and Russia shared in this belief. One of these
he mentions by name; the other may possibly have been
one of the two Siberian residents referred to above. But
the opinion strongly impressed upon the mind of the
present writer—an opinion which was completely shared by
his companion of the voyage—is that although Dr. Lansdell
has dispelled some erroneous ideas and disproved some false
stories in regard to Russia’s treatment of her prisoners,
political and social, he has been misled into presenting a
picture of Siberian prison management which is far ‘too
xii PREFACE

roseate-hued, and which does infinitely more credit to the
Russian Government than is deserved. Having first heard
when in the heart of Siberia of the great and noble work in
which Mr. George Kennan had then been so recently engaged,
the author cannot omit the opportunity of bearing testimony
to the high opinion entertained there as to the unsparing
pains which Mr. Kennan had taken to arrive at the truth,
and as to the value his work was likely to have in placing
before American and English readers a reliable account of
the sufferings of Siberian prisoners.

Since the completion of the journey here narrated a
work has been projected which, when completed, will render
summer travelling in Siberia far easier than in the past.
The connection of Tomsk and Stretensk by rail on either
side with the Baikal Sea, and the building of a further railway
from Lake Khanka to Vladivostok, will, if competed, enable
the traveller to cross the two entire continents of Europe
and Asia by steam. Undoubtedly it will, for both commercial
and strategic purposes, be a great andimportant work. But
of its prospective commercial value some immensely exagge-
rated estimates have been formed. It has even been spoken
of as a formidable rival to the Canadian Pacific Railway.
But when it is remembered that for half the year the navi-
gation of the rivers is stopped by ice, and that when open
the Amur is so shallow that the light-draught steamers
which ply on its surface are not unfrequently compelled to

f

\
PREFACE xiii

stop for want of water ; and when one recollects the frequent
embarkations and disembarkations which will still be neces-
sary, it must be conceded that it will take more than these
connecting links of railway to render this a very serviceable
route for passengers and cargo to and from the Far East.
For the tourist on pleasure bent, the winter journey by
sledge will still, with all its hardships and inconveniences,
- have something to recommend it over the mosquitoes, the
heat, the dirt, and the discomfort of Siberian steamboat
travelling as it has been described by summer voyagers.
The author has endeavoured to maintain a reasonable
amount of uniformity in the transliteration of Russian
names; but the anomalies of English spelling render it
difficult to indicate the proper pronunciation without having
recourse to an elaborate system of phonetics which would
be out of place in a book of this kind. If, however, the
reader will pronounce the letter ‘u’ like ‘00’ in boot, and
‘i’ like ‘ee’ in feet, or ‘i’ in ‘fit,’ and will give to the
other letters their common English sound, ‘ ch’ being pro-
nounced as in ‘chat,’ ‘zh’ like ‘gs’ in ‘vision,’ and ‘kh’
like the Scottish guttural in ‘loch,’ he will not go so very

far wrong.

L. F. G.
HampsteaD ; October, 1889.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Rousstan OFriceR ; 3 F , - 7 . . .
Russtan OrricER—VLADIVOsTOK . a ‘ . * » &
Curnaman IN WINTER CLOTHES . ; 5 ° i . =
Corgan Coonie aT VLADIVOSTOK . < é 3 5 aoe
Winter Unirorm i 3 ‘ - : . . "I a
Serr anp Gowrne IN oUR TRAVELLING Pant i . es
Casm or tHE Anna. Home or Six ProrpLE FoR A WEEK.

Srreton Bay - ‘ ‘ : ‘ 3 i %
Srerrun Srove : . : a ° 3 . 3 ‘
Our SuepeGr, with Troma . z a ‘ é 7 6. ce
In TraveLtine Fors. 5 é 7 5 ‘. a .
Yemsuix—sy AN InstpE PasseNcGER x = ¥ ‘ os 8
Our Horses make A Cath on THE Next PassENGER ‘ .
Tue Road on THE Kuanxa Lake . - 7 7 ei e°%
Srperman Posr-station—Kuanra Lare ‘ : : 5 a
Lravinac KHABAROVKA—AN INDIFFERENT RoapD ‘ ‘ eO%
A Sroprpacz. Our YEMSHIK TRIES TO KNOCK DOWN A TREE .
Srpertan Post-koaD on LowER AmMUR . . 2 i aS oe

Svatron-masteR aND CHum at KuilocHt ExPLAIN IN RvssIAN
THAT WE MUST LEAVE OUR SLEDGE WITH HIM, UNLESS WE
PAY HIM 30 ROUBLES TO DRIVE US BY SOME ROAD THAT HE
KENOWS NOTHING aBouT!!1! . . z é ‘ ‘ :
STATION-MASTER IN THE ACT OF SOLEMNLY DECLARING THAT
WITH LESS THAN FIVE HORSES HE CAN’T GO ANYWHERE . .

On tHE Road To GuLcHrINma—No SNow . 3 ‘ é 5
View or Gowine’s Nosk AFTER IT WaS TOUCHED BY THE

Frost. 5 ig Ps ‘ i ‘ . . eer
Tue Last Mite into BLAGOVESTCHENSK . ‘ . # ‘

Frozen Fish anp Minx ar BLAGOVESTCHENSK . “
A Manza Ox Siepe@r ror FREIGHT . ¥ ‘ %

GeNTLy Down A Hr . ‘ . e “ w ae
Tur Bust STATION-MASTER WE SAW . P . . + ‘
Boys Sxatine on Srpewauk, IrnutTsK . 4 ie

Tue FreicHt CaravAN HorRsE WHO GIVES IT UP A 2 :
AN OVERTURNED KerosinE SLEDGE—Lost rrom A Caravan
Waat Aa Srperian catts A Piuoxa Doroca 5

Boy Toxpoceanine. . . . . . .

PAGE

87
92
93
107
108
110

117

118
119

120
121
131
150
166
190
207
215
216
228
246
CONTENTS

CHAPTER I

INTRODUCTORY

The conception of the idea—A host of advisers—Encouragements and
warnings—Our forerunners in Siberian travel—Mr. Michie—Pro-
fessor Milne—The Western Union Extension Telegraph Company
—Mr. Kennan—The Rev. Dr. Lansdell—M. Russell-Killough—M.
Meignan—Mr. Thomas Duff—Farewell to Shanghai—Nagasaki—

CHAPTER II

COREA

The opening of the Hermit Kingdom—Political crises—Chemulpo—A
ride to the capital—Ma-po—Seoul—Pak-tung—The massacre of
1882—Interview with a Corean prince—A night ride from Seoul
—Port Hamilton—Gensan—Arrival at Vladivostok . : .

CHAPTER III
VLADIVOSTOK

The first sight of Siberia—Russian officers and German merchants—
A Siberian hotel—Landing baggage—A five weeks’ delay—Danes,
Germans, English, and Americans—Sunshine and frost—Public
buildings— Mexican dollars and Russian roubles —Expenses of the
journey —Sledges—Outfit— Life in Vladivostok—Drunkenness and
gambling—A suicide’s funeral—A German brewery—Tigers—A
big bag—A German Singing Club—Vodka —Russian robbers and
Manza pirates 7 3 , é ‘ 5 : 7

PAGE

10

33
xvi CONTENTS

CHAPTER IV

DEER-STALKING IN EASTERN SIBERIA
PAGE
A voyage in the Anna—The beginning of winter—Close quarters—

Perog ~ Strelok Bay—An abandoned Finnish settlement—A life
of adventure—A steady nerve—A smoky chimney—The samovar
—Deer-stalking in the snow—Human deer—The moccasins of the
savage—A rechristening—Wary deer—An improvised tea-kettle—
Blood-stained tiger tracks in the snow—A dead shot—Our bag—
A feast of deer’s liver—Siberian venison—Return to Vladivostok. 53

CHAPTER V
VLADIVOSTOK—THE START

Ocean sledging—Wanted, snow and ice—A snowfall and a transforma-
tion—A jovial Ispravnik—‘ Sei chas’—‘ British arrogance ’—A
friend in need—Passports and podorozhnayas—Cattle-lifting—An
ofticer and a perfect gentleman—Exasperating delays—The last
trip of the Baikal—Dismal forebodings—Parasites and kidnappers
—A Russian dish—A purga— More delays—Oft at last ° - 67

CHAPTER VI
VLADIVOSTOK TO KHABAROVKA

Good-bye to Vladivostok—The effects of the purga—First experiences of
road-sledging—Sledge bells—The first post-station—Tea-drinking
in Russia—Wellington bellows—Sledging by night—An unwelcome
equine visitor —Tigrova—Rasdolnoi—Fall of the thermometer—
Nikolsk—Kamen Ruiboloff—An unexpected meeting and a wel-
come rest--The Khanka Lake—Marvellous effects of frost and
storm— Slow progress—Frost-bitten yemshiks—Libellous loyalty
—Russian emigrants—He had never heard of London—The Sun-
gacha—The borders of China—The mails—An affectionate starosta
—The Ussuri—The perfection of sledging—Siberian post-stations
and peasants’ homes—Kazakevitch—Arrival at Khabarovka. - 80

CHAPTER VII
KHABAROVKA TO BLAGOVESTCHENSK

The capital of the Primorsk—A miserable hotel—A Christmas dinner
—Shtchee and cutlets—Beware of officials—Driving tandem—The
CONTENTS xvii

PAGR
Amur River—A dreary steppe—A midnight collision—Thirty-six

hours through falling snow—Radde—A pleasant meeting—The
family sledge—Racing on the road—A long cold drive by night—
A frosty supper and an altercation—No snow—A station-master
takes a fancy to our sledge—An encounter and a victory—We
proceed with five horses—The battle renewed—Another victory
and a rough ride—A drive in a tarantas and a frozen nose—Entry
into Blagovestchensk . ‘ ; . oie . »  « 104

CHAPTER VIII
BUAGOVESTCHENSK

The City of Glad Tidings—A decent hotel—How Siberians wash—
Among friends—The pleasures of hospitality—A curious sledge—
Foreign testimony as to life in Siberia—A comfortable home—-
—Foreign merchants and German officials—A new postal adminis-
tration—A frozen market—Effects of the cold—A royal gift—A
new podorozhnaya—Pairs and troikas—Molokans— Off up the
Amur . . . . . : . . . . - 123

CHAPTER IX
BLAGOVESTCHENSK TO ALBAZIN

The beauties of the Amur—The Siberian moon—Collisions—Buriat
Cossacks—Missionary work among the Buriats—Slow travelling
—'Pochta boodit ’—Effects of the cold—Sleepy yemshiks—A natty
post-station—Pairs and troikas—Burning cold—Camels and oxen
—The cowardly wolf—Private horses—Russian bargains—The
Buriats again—Drunken yemshiks—The duga—Cossacks on the
spree—A lonely post-station—Deer and deerskins—A meeting
with old friends—The Siberian carpenter—A dangerous drive—
Albazine. © «© «© - Soe oe Le a ep ey BG

CHAPTER X

ALBAZIN TO STRETENSK

Chernirovski—Albazin and its sieges—An elevated starosta—Embar-
rassing hospitality—The sentinel deserts his post—Off to Stretensk
—An unfortunate family—Gently down hill—The Buriats again—
An irascible Polish exile—Farewell to the Cossacks—Up the Shilka
Xvili CONTENTS.

: PAGE
Riyer—The Seven Cardinal Sins—Restlessrepose— Returning horses

—Good-bye to the vashok—A Chinese merchant—Stretensk—A
rude hotel—English again—A transmitting station—Tapping the
wires—Borsh and pilménies—On the road again. .« oe « 162

CHAPTER XI

STRETENSK TO VERKHNE UDINSK

The shallow Shilka—An infantile yemshik—In a snowdrift—A novel
‘equipage ’—Nerchinsk—A millionaire’s palace—Chita—A snow-
less tract—Siberian fires—Tarantas travelling—A convict train—
An attack on the post—Double murder and robbery—The Yab-
lonoi Mountains—Our sledge again—The shrine on the mountains
—A smash—The land of the Buriats—The tarantas once more—
A long cold ride—Through the woods—The Uda River—Verkhne
Udinsk . ° ° . . . . * ° ° * . 178

CHAPTER XII

ACROSS THE BAIKAL TO IRKUTSK

Verkhne Udinsk—The Kiakhta road—Maimaichin and Urga-—An in-
fant starosta—A day of rest—House sparrows—The starosta in
trouble—The Selenga—Freight caravans—Pitfalls—Nearing the
Baikal—Kabansk—A little Siberian traveller—Mishikhinsk—Over
the Baikal—Icy caves—Ominous fissures—The wreck of a post-
station—Mock suns — Listvinichnaya — A wilderness of freight -
aledges—The customs station—A two hours’ block—An unappe-
tising supper—Rough travelling—A glorious sunrise—English
literature in Siberia—Irkutsk o 8 «© 6 » e 192

CHAPTER XIII

IRKUTSK TO TOMSK

The Paris of Siberia—The great fire—Ivan Pachaboff—A civilised
hotel—A Siberian vapour-bath—A corduroy road—The caravan
horse—A lost breakfast—Tylunovsk—Nizhni Udinsk—Siberian
roads—Damages and repairs—Sledge races—Krasnoyarsk—A
kindly Englishman—Western Siberia—A train of convicts—Sleep-
ing men’s souls—An unexpected visitor—The worst road on record
-Tomsk . e % . oe . . . ‘ - - 206
CONTENTS X1X

CHAPTER XIV

TOMSK TO TIUMEN

PAGE
The boundary of steam communication—Companions and a change of

route—Omsk—Siberian music—Off again—A meagre dinner—A
purga—Private horses and private post-stations—In the family
bedrooms — Homespun — Cheap bread—Beggars — Tiukalinsk—
Nearing the railway—Quick travellng—Tiumens .« «6 + 230

CHAPTER XV

TIUMEN TO MOSCOW

English faces—An Englishman among the Samoyedes—A railway
journey—The road to Irbit—Irbit Fair—The city of a month—
Business and pleasure—Natural food preservation—A heavy bill
—A sledging steeplechase—Back to Tiumen—A Siberian squire—
Maslinitza—Farewell to Tiumen—The Tiumen-Perm Railway—
Luxurious travelling versus speed—Ekaterinburg and its gems—
Asia, the Urals, Europe—Perm—Sledging in Europe—A posting
monopoly—Snow ploughs—A road surveyor—Tatar caravans—
The miseries of Lent—Kazan—Up the Volga—Vasil Sursk—
Nizhni Novgorod—A deserted city—Moscow—A retrospect—The
death of Mr, Uren . 7 * © «© © «© « 240
FIVE THOUSAND MILES
IN A SLEDGE

CHAPTER I

INTRODUCTORY

The conception of the idea—A host of advisers—Encouragements and
warnings—Our forerunners in Siberian travel—Mr. Michie—Pro-
fessor Miine—The Western Union Extension Telegraph Company—
Mr. Kennan—The Rev. Dr. Lansdell—M. Russell-Killough—M.
Meignan—Mr. Thomas Duff—Farewell to Shanghai—Nagasaki—
Fusan—Gensan.

Ir was midday, and we were seated round the tiffin-table
when the idea was first mooted. The swinging punkah
overhead tempered with a gentle breeze the fierce moist
heat of a Shanghai August day, and the white glare
outside only reached us mellowed and subdued by filtra-
tion through the reed blinds surrounding the verandah.
‘Jack,’ the tall, burly, beaming-faced Chinese head-boy,
was busily employed in the dispensation of cooling liquors,
and we were one and all arrayed in the loose white
garments which form the summer costumes of exiles in
the Far East. But in spite of all that the arts of civili-
2 INTRODUCTORY

sation could do to mitigate the rigour of a sub-tropical
sun, the idea of gliding through endless tracts of ice and
snow, with the thermometer at unheard-of depths below
zero, proved singularly pleasing and attractive at that
moment.

The fortunate man of business or merchant’s clerk
whose lot is cast in Shanghai, the gay metropolis of the
Far East, sometimes assumes a tone of pity for his less
favoured comrades who are struggling along in the keen
race for existence in the Old Country. Ihave heard many
an old China resident declare that Shanghai is the best
place in the world to live in, and that nothing less than
the award of a double first prize in the Manila Lottery, or
some other semi-miraculous chance which should make him
the possessor of a handsome fortune, would induce him to
take up his residence permanently in England. My future
camarade de voyage, Mr. Uren, of the Eastern Extension
Telegraph Company, though by no means an old resi-
dent, was strongly imbued with this unpatriotic notion.
‘England,’ he was wont to declare, ‘is a capital country
to live out of and boast about ;’ but even he had sufficient
love for his native land to look forward with eager antici-
pation to a coming twelvemonth’s furlough, which would
enable him to pay a temporary visit to Old England. For
my part, I had determined, after a four years’ residence in
Shanghai, to break through the fascinations of Far Kastern
life before they obtained too strong a hold on me; and on
this sultry August day in 1885 we were discussing the
respective merits of the various routes from China to
PREPARATIONS 3

England. My future comrade declared that he had for
some time entertained the idea of making his way home
through Siberia in the middle of winter, but unfortunately
he had never been able to find anyone mad enough to
accompany him, and he had consequently abandoned the
notion. I at once stepped into the breach, and within five
minutes the journey was, in our minds, an accomplished
fact.

Our friends round the tiffin-table smiled knowingly,
and insinuated that as the year declined and the days grew
cooler, so also would our ardour. Certainly, in the midst
of the wintry east winds which compensate the residents
of Shanghai for the tropical heat of summer, the projected
journey did not bear quite so pleasant an aspect; but,
nevertheless, our purpose endured. Various obstacles
necessitated our postponing its execution till the winter of
1886; but in the meantime we consulted all the authorities
we could find on the subject, placed ourselves in communi-
cation with foreigners resident in Vladivostok, which we
settled upon as the base of our journey, and generally
perfected our plans. From the foreigners in Vladivostok
to whom we obtained introductions we received the most
kindly promises of assistance; and although from many
friends in China we were overwhelmed with dire warnings
of the perilous nature of our projected enterprise, we were
consoled by the reflection that the darkness of the pictures
was generally in direct proportion to the ignorance of our
informants in regard to everything connected with Siberian

travel.
4 INTRODUCTORY

From the accounts of earlier travellers across Siberia
we could obtain but little information to assist us in
maturing our plans. During the last twenty or thirty
years some half a dozen or more English residents in the
Far East have made their way home through Northern
Asia, and some two or three of these have placed their
experiences upon record; but in nearly every case they
have made their way through Peking, across the Mongolian.
desert, by Urga, Kiakhta, and Verkhne Udinsk to the
Baikal Sea, and have thus been unable to give at first
hand any description whatever of travel in Hastern Siberia.
Moreover, they had nearly all very naturally chosen the
summer for their journey, and the conditions of winter and.
summer travelling in Siberia are so vastly different that
this rendered the accounts of our predecessors almost
entirely valueless to us.

One of the first English residents in China to whom
the idea of making his way homeward by the northern-
route seems to have occurred was Mr. Alexander Michie,
still, I believe, a resident in the Far Hast, who published
a description of his journey in 1864; and fifteen years later
Professor Milne, now celebrated for his important seismo-
logical researches in Japan, undertook a similar exploit, an
account of which he subsequently read before the Asiatic
Society of Japan. In 1882, while on my way to China,
Professor Milne and I happened to be fellow-voyagers on
board the French mail steamer Oxus, and from him I first
learnt something of the kind of adventure which voyagers
in Siberia have to expect. At that time I had as little idea
SIBERIAN TRAVELLERS 5

of travelling across Northern Asia as of making a journey
to the moon; but three years later, when the adventure
was suggested to me, the professor’s descriptions recurred
to my memory, though how far they influenced me in my
decision to attempt the journey T have been unable to
determine.

Since Captain John Dundas Cochrane’s account of his
adventurous pedestrian tour in Siberia in the early part of
this century, a number of works on Northern Asiatic travel
have appeared from the pens of French, American, and
English writers. In 1865 an expedition started from
America for the purpose of surveying the north of Siberia
and erecting an overland telegraph line from Behring’s
Straits to Europe, to be connected by a short cable across
the straits with a similar land line stretching from Alaska
to NewEngland. The enterprise was abandoned two years
later owing to the success of the rival scheme for laying an
ocean cable across the Atlantic; but several of the hardy
spirits who volunteered for this hazardous expedition have
since published in America thrilling accounts of their ad-
ventures, by far the best being from the pen of Mr. George
Kennan. Not one of them, however, has described at any
length the features of an ordinary midwinter journey over
the great highway of Asiatic Russia.

Of the comparatively few English and French travellers
who have crossed the western boundary of Asia, those who
have penetrated to Eastern Siberia could easily be counted
on the fingers of a single hand. Foremost among them is
the Rev. Dr. Henry Lansdell, who in 1879 crossed Siberia

3
6 INTRODUCTORY

from the Urals to the Pacific as the pioneer of missionary
work among the Russian exiles. The outcome of this
journey, Dr. Lansdell’s ‘ Through Siberia,’ is undoubtedly
the fullest and most accurate description of the country
which has yet appeared. But his also was a summer
trip, and the only two detailed descriptions of post-sledging
along the great Northern Asiatic route which have been
published are from the pens of French travellers. The
first of these, M. Henry Russell-Killough, left Peters-
burg in November 1858, intending to pass out of Asiatic
Russia at Kiakhta and make his way through China. He
reached Peking in safety; but, much to his disgust, was
prevented from proceeding farther, and made to retrace his’
steps over the Mongolian desert. By the-time he regained
the Siberian highway the winter was nearly at an end, and
he continued his journey by water, steaming the whole
way along the Shilka and Amur to Nikolaevsk, wherice he
proceeded to Japan. His travels have never been trans-
lated into English. The other winter voyager is M. Victor
Meignan, who left Paris on October 25, 1878, and arrived
in Irkutsk in the middle of the following February. «~The
fatigues of the journey having affected his health he re-
mained some weeks in Irkutsk, had a dangerous passage
in his sledge over the Baikal, owing to a thaw having set
in, and crossed Mongolia to Peking and Tientsin in the
spring. An English translation of M. Meignan’s account
of his journey appeared some four years ago, and only
reached Shanghai after our trip had been decided upon. It
contained the first authoritative opinion which we had
A WARNING 7

then been able to obtain as to the advantages and dis-
advantages of such a journey as that we proposed to make.
In concluding the account of his travels M. Meignan
Says:

‘My readers, perhaps, will wonder what could have
induced me to have undertaken so wearisome a journey: I
had imagined the bright side of it only then, but now I
have seen the other I can advise them not to follow my
example; for though there are many novel, grand, and
striking scenes of nature, accompanied with much exciting
adventure, still they are not to be enjoyed in so rigorous a
climate as that of Siberia in winter without incurring much
hardship, and even a certain exposure to a considerable
share of danger.’

This was not very encouraging. But we did not allow
ourselves to become dispirited; especially as we subse-
quently discovered that M. Meignan’s views were not held
by all who had shared his experiences. Mr. Thomas Duff, a
British merchant in China, who made the winter journey a
quarter of a century ago or more, but who has never
written an account of his travels, described it to us as one
prolonged enjoyable picnic, and assured us that nothing
but family ties prevented him from at once starting off to
repeat the experiment. In this conflict of evidence we
resolved to decide the question for ourselves; and on
October 80, 1886, having exchanged parting greetings with
our friends, some of whom bade us a mournful farewell in
the firm belief that we were doomed to ornament the
steppes of Northern Asia with our frozen corpses, we
8 INTRODUCTORY

embarked on board the Japanese steamer Yokohama Maru,
and were soon gliding down the Huangpu River to the
broad mouth of the Yangtsze-Kiang.

As we steamed slowly down towards the Woosung
Forts, the extensive Chinese batteries which guard the
entrance to the river on which Shanghai stands, a line
of signal flags was suddenly hoisted at the little telegraph
station where the submarine cables are landed; and the
captain, directing his glasses to this quarter, informed us
that the message read: ‘Good-bye; pleasant voyage.’ It
was our last communication with the land which for four
years had been my home. A few hours later we had
emerged from the mouth of the great Yangtsze River, and
were bucking heavily against a choppy sea outside. On
some of us the motion soon began to have its effect.
Captain Haswell, of the Yokohama Maru, has deservedly
gained the reputation of keeping the best table to be found
in any steamer plying in the China and Japan waters—
and this is no small compliment, for they know how to
live in the Far East; but nevertheless, during the short
passage to Nagasaki, there were many of us who felt
disinclined to put his reputation to the test.

On the morning of November 1, some forty-four hours
after leaving Shanghai, we entered the lovely harbour of
Nagasaki, with the pretty little Japanese town nestling at
the feet, and villa residences of the foreign merchants and
consuls dotting the slopes, of the beautifully tinted hills
which surround it on every side. Here my comrade and I
transferred ourselves and our belongings to the Takachiho
ARRIVAL AT COREA 9

Maru, another fine steamer of the Japanese mail line,
plying between Nagasaki, Corea, and Vladivostok. A
sixteen hours’ run brought us to the town of Fusan, one
of the three newly opened ports of the little kingdom of
Corea. The foreign settlement, its population consisting
of half a dozen Europeans and a few hundred Japanese,
offered but few attractions to us, and we accordingly
occupied the brief period of our stay in scouring Deer
Island—an islet at the entrance to the harbour—in
search of game. We caught sight in the distance of a
single specimen of the quadrupeds who have given their
name to the island; but we did not succeed in bagging
him, and returned to the ship with only a few quail to
compensate us for our failure.

The next morning at daylight we were once more under
way; and the day after at noon we anchored in the pretty
harbour of Gensan, the most northerly of the Corean open
ports. The crazy Corean boats, riveted with wood and having
not a scrap of iron in their composition, are only fit for dis-
charging cargo in a perfectly calm sea accompanied by fine
weather; and the absence of this favourable conjunction of
circumstances occasioned us a three days’ delay.
CHAPTER II

COREA

The opening of the Hermit Kingdom—Political crises—Chemulpo—A
ride to the capital—Ma-po—Seoul—Pak-tung—The massacre of
1882—Interview with a Corean prince—A night ride from Seoul—
Port Hamilton—Gensan—Arrival at Vladivostok.

Ir was not our first visit to Corea. Mr. Uren and I had
been companions in an expedition to the Hermit Kingdom
just twelve months before. The country had then not long
been exposed to the gaze of curious foreigners, and the
steamer Ashington, which carried us, was, in fact, the
first British merchant ship which had ever entered the
eastern port of Gensan or Yuensan.

But Corea had already passed through several political
crises since her entrance into the comity of nations, and
she was just at the height of another at the time of
our visit. Herr von Méllendorff, the adviser and Foreign
Minister of the Corean king, whose royal master had
ennobled his ancestors for several generations back in order
to render him eligible for an office which only an heredi-
tary nobleman might occupy, had just fallen into disgrace.
He had been accused of attempting to throw Corea into
the arms of Russia, and although he had not then left the

,
CHEMULPO Il

country, as he was afterwards compelled to do, he had
been relieved of his offices as Foreign Minister and Inspector-
General of Customs. England had only a few months
before seized on the islands surrounding Port Hamilton,
and the Russian scare was still at its height. A year
before, the establishment of a regular postal system had
been frustrated on the day of its inauguration by an émeute
and a general massacre. But this had not altogether
checked enterprise, for the Ashington bore to Chemulpo,
the port of Seoul, all the machinery for setting up a
mint ; and on the very day of our arrival a telegraph line
was opened from the port to the capital.

The port of Chemulpo is prettily situated, with verdure-
clad hills rising on either side of it, and distant peaks of
greater altitude beyond. The town is rather Japanese than
Corean; and the consulate of the Land of the Rising Sun
is by far its most imposing building, quite eclipsing the
homes of the representatives of Great Britain and China.
On one side of the little town the slopes of the hill were
dotted over with Japanese gravestones, while on the oppo-
site cliff three stones marked the resting-places of two
young officers and a sailor of the American navy, and
formed the commencement of a foreign city of the dead.
Very pretty views of the harbour and the surrounding
country were obtained from the cliffs; and with its bracing
and pleasant climate, and its pretty situation, there seemed
a fair prospect of Chemulpo becoming some day a for-
midable rival to Chefoo as a summer health-resort for
residents in China. Its sole natural drawback is the extra-
12. COREA

ordinary rise and fall of the tide, which leaves at low water>
& great waste of muddy sand stretching along the little bay.

All the sight-seeing that could be done in the little port,
with its score or so of Europeans and its few hundred
Japanese and Coreans, was soon exhausted. The men, in
their long robes, their heads covered by the broad-brimmed
stove-pipe hat of open-worked horsehair, through which
could be seen the knot of hair bunched on top of the head,
had been familiar objects to us in China. Another form of
hat which appeared to be very commonly worn was even
more striking in point of size. This was a huge covering
of coarse straw matting, almost completely hiding the head
and shoulders of the wearer from view, and looking far
more suitable for roofing a haystack than a human being.
These hats, we were told, formed part of the trappings and
the suits of native male Corean woe; but as about every
third man had thus extinguished himself, it struck us that
if all these men were in mourning the death-rate of
Chemulpo must be alarmingly high.

Seoul, the capital of the ‘ Land of Morning Calm,’ is some
thirty odd miles from its seaport. At present there are two
ways of making the journey. One may pass the hours squat-
ting cross-legged in a seatless sedan chair, or one can ride a
specimen of the Corean pack-horse, an undersized, stiff-
jointed pony, which only occasionally quickens its ordinary
slow walking pace to a peculiarly disagreeable shambling
trot, a very brief continuance of which is almost sufficient
to jolt one’s every bone from its socket.

We chose the latter alternative, and at seven o’clock on.
THE ROAD TO SEOUL 13

the morning after our arrival at Chemulpo our little party
of three were astride three sorry ponies, whose clumsy
native saddles had been removed and replaced by three of
English manufacture kindly placed at our service by foreign
residents at the port. Behind us strode the three owners
of the animals, carrying their heavy Corean saddles, as well
as all our wraps and provisions, these men having under-
taken to provide us with ponies and walk the whole thirty
miles with their burdens for a sum in Corean ‘cash’ which
would yield them less than eighteenpence a head.

Here and there we passed little villages of thatched
mud huts, with scores of children running about in their
summer costume, consisting of one little white jacket, open in
front, and reaching not quite down to the waist. Numbers
of caravans met us on the road, some with long lines of.
magnificent bulls carrying huge burdens, which often
almost hid the beasts from sight. The men—villagers as
well as travellers—all appeared well dressed ; women were
rarely seen at all. We saw not a single beggar, a pleasing
relief after an experience of travellingin China. Every man
was provided with a long straight pipe and a pouch of
tobacco, and all we saw tended to confirm what we were
afterwards told at the capital—that, although there is an
entire absence of the wealthy merchants who form so
important a class in the Celestial Empire, the abject
poverty which stares one in the face in every part of China
is almost equally unknown. Everywhere, too, the people
were very courteous and kindly disposed towards foreigners,
and none of the petty insults and annoyances which are
14 7 COREA

inseparable from a journey in the interior of China were
experienced. ‘

Some hours’ slow plodding brought us toa vast expanse
of loose sand, beyond which a line of junk-masts told us
that at last we were nearing the river; and a cluster of
huts beyond the junks buoyed us up with a false hope
that the suburbs of Seoul were at length in sight. This,
however, turned out to be the little river port of Ma po—a
good hour’s journey from the capital at our then rate of
progress. It was here, on this stretch of sand, that, less
than twenty years before, Bishop Berneux and three other
French missionaries were put to death with revolting
tortures by command of a prince whose return to Corea
after a long period of exile was at that very moment expected
—the Dai In Kun, father of his Corean Majesty.

At the river a large ferry-boat was ready to receive us.
It contained already some two dozen Coreans and a fine
large bull; but we managed to find space for our three
ponies, our mafoos, or horsemen, and ourselves, and the
whole miscellaneous cargo was soon ferried across.

The bamboo, slung across the shoulder, common to China
and Japan, is unknown in Corea for carrying weights;
everything is borne upon the back. The frame on which the
burden is rested is a simple device, formed principally of two
long naturally forked pieces of wood, fastened side by side, so
that when this framework is strapped on the shoulders two
branches of the forks stick out nearly at right angles to the
back and form a convenient ledge on which to deposit the
bundle. One of our fellow-passengers on the ferry-boat was.
MA-PO 15

provided with a frame of this kind on which rested a fine fat
pig, with his back towards the ground, and his feet tied
together and pointing towards the heavens. The Irishman
doubtless considers himself superior in civilisation to the
Corean ; but I believe Paddy, though his difficulties in getting
the pig home from market are proverbial, never yet rose to the
sublime stroke of genius of strapping the animal to his back.

The little town of Ma-po, the river port of Seoul, looks
picturesque from the opposite side of the Han river ; but the
effect is destroyed when one gets into its narrow streets,
with all the dirtiness and none of the quaintness of a
Chinese town; the houses little better than thatched mud
huts, and devoid of the glittering signboards and grotesque
carvings which afford some slight compensation for the
squalor and vile odours of the towns of the Celestial
Empire. The shops generally showed a stock-in-trade
which looked as if it might be bought up, with the good-
will of the business thrown in, for a very few pence. Chillies
appeared to be the staple article of diet. More than one
shop displayed no other wares, the red pods being piled
in little heaps of half a dozen each on the pathway in
front of the house. During our ride, too, we had often
observed the roofs of distant houses gleaming a brilliant
red in the sun, the hue proving on a nearer approach to
be due to the chilli pepper pods spread out on the thatched
roofs to dry. Pipe and tobacco shops were numerous ; but
we saw little else for sale beyond the bare necessaries of life.

Passing over a little hill which faces the river, and on
which the principal part of the town is situated, we found
16 COREA

ourselves in a pretty valley, surrounded on every side by
hills of verdure and cultivated fields.

But we were in no condition to admire scenery. We
had been travelling for about ten hours; our ponies were
dead tired, and our goal was nowhere in sight. Our mafoos
came to a halt, and seemed undecided as to their road.
We could do but little in the way of urging them on,
because our common vocabulary consisted of a single
word—Pak-tung—the native name of the compound in
Seoul for which we were bound—the compound in which
were situated the headquarters of the Corean Customs
Service, and the residence of Herr von Mollendorff. It is
true we could say Pak-tung. Like Mark Twain’s American
student in Germany who had learnt to say ‘ Zwei Glas,’
we had ‘got that solid.’ But supposing our mafoos did
not understand it? Supposing we pronounced the words
wrongly, and they were conducting us to some village far
in the interior with a name of similar sound ? A little lunch
of which we had partaken at the ‘ halfway house’ seemed
far back in the remote past; one of our party of three
expressed his willingness to barter his pony and mafoo and
all his companions’ baggage—including a satchel of sketch-
ing apparatus with which the beauties and wonders of Corea
were to be transferred to paper—all for a single draught of
beer. Luckily for his comrades, the exchange was im-
possible, and there was nothing for it but to trudge wearily
along behind our mafoos, who led the ponies up a steep
stony watercourse, through which a tiny stream was

‘ running. It seemed incredible that this could: be the
SEOUL 17

direct road from the river port to the metropolis and seat
of government of an ancient kingdom nearly as large as
Great Britain; but as we ascended, the long train of
descending pack-horses and cattle, which nearly blocked
the narrow path, told us we were approaching a busy
town; and at length, when we reached the head of the
watercourse, we saw in the distance the solid walls and
well-built gate of the city of Seoul.

With revived hopes we plodded on, till at length we
stood before the city gate, a typical Chinese erection, with
its name emblazoned on it in celestial characters. On either
side of it stretched lofty well-preserved walls of solid ma-
sonry ; and above was a double roof of curved tiles, with
corners pointing heavenwards.

But we were not yet at our journey’s end. We trudged
along through what seemed an endless succession of
narrow, dirty, winding streets, till at length, when we felt
convinced that we had faced every point of the compass at
least half a dozen times since we entered the city, we
arrived at a fine, straight, broad thoroughfare. It was the
principal street of Seoul, leading from one of the city gates
to the palace of the King. Shops of a slightly better class
than those we had previously seen extended along its sides :
and in front of these were stalls with petty wares exposed
for sale. Among the customers around one of these stalls
we saw a Corean lady with a coiffure which would have
struck envy into the breast of many of her European sisters.
It was plaited into an enormous chignon, beneath which
the lady’s face looked a mere pimple in point of size.

4
18 COREA

Although loth to believe that even a Corean lady would
endeavour to enhance her charms by artifice, we could
not feel convinced that the hair was all her own. It
seemed impossible that less than a dozen heads could have
produced such a crop in a lifetime; and our suspicions
were afterwards confirmed by foreign residents at the
capital.. It was, we were told, the proper head-dress for
a lady of the Court.

A little later we entered a courtyard, and our eyes were
cheered by the sight of a street lamp of foreign manu-
facture and a cart loaded with foreign furniture. We
entered Pak-tung, paid off our cavalcade, and were soon
snugly ensconced in a little bowery, which seemed scarcely
less than an earthly paradise after our weary pilgrimage.
We seemed to be surrounded by all the comforts of civi-
lisation compressed into one little room, lined with book-
cases containing a choice library, and prettily decorated
with a profusion of nicknacks and rare works of art.

Cheered by the hearty weleome which we received, and
splendidly reinvigorated after our thirsty march, we were
soon in the compound admiring the view of the city which
it afforded. The city walls stretched for miles over the
hills, and inclosed within them were other walls, only less
extensive, which surrounded the palace grounds, a mere
glimpse of the palace roof and summer pavilion being ob-
tainable above them. In another direction was the old
palace, occupied by the King previous to the massacre of
1882, when the heir appaient, and his wife, and the
chief Ministers of the Government were slaughtered, as
THE MASSACRE OF 1882 19

is believed, at the instigation of the King’s father, the Dai
In Kun, the leader of that Conservative party, which was
inimical to the opening of the Hermit Kingdom to the
foreigner.

Various accounts have been given of the origin of this
massacre, which marked the entrance of Corea into the
comity of nations ; but I will give the story as I heard it
from the lips of a Prince of the Royal House. The diffi-
culty which culminated in this massacre, his Highness
explained, speaking in Chinese through a gentleman who
was kind enough to act as interpreter, had arisen in the
first instance from the attempt of the Dai In Kun to usurp
to himself powers which were vested in the Throne.
The predecessor of his present Majesty died leaving no
near relation to succeed him, and the choice then fell
upon the now reigning King, then a boy of twelve years.
old. Parental authority is no less strongly insisted upon
in Corea than in China; and, all Corean ethics thus com-
pelling the young King to be obedient to his father, for.
years the sovereign sway was entirely in the hands of the
Dai In Kun. As the King began to grow up to manhood,
he began to perceive that his father’s rule was anything
but beneficent. The Prince was constantly performing in
the name of the King acts of which his Majesty could not
possibly approve, and finally these deeds culminated in
the torturing and slaughter of some tens of thousands
of Roman Catholic converts. Then at last the King re-
belled against the parental authority. He pointed out to
the Dai In Kun that although his duty towards his father
20 COREA

was great, his duty towards those over whom he—and not
his father—had been appointed King was greater still.
He proceeded to degrade some of the many corrupt and
incapable men whom the Prince had appointed to high
offices in the kingdom, and generally to assume to himself
the active government of the country. The Dai In Kun,
who had held almost undisputed sway for ten years, was
not disposed to allow the power to slip away from him
so easily ; and the result of all this was the conspiracy and
massacre of 1882, in which nearly all the principal ad-
vigers of the King in his new line of policy were put to,
death, and his Majesty was left almost helpless. The
life of the Queen herself was threatened, but she managed
with difficulty to escape; and at this juncture China sent
ships and troops to his Majesty’s assistance, and carried
away the Dai In Kun as a prisoner of war. But he
was now on his way back; and the Liberal party, to which
the Prince, my informant, belonged, were in a state of
trepidation.

On the morning after our arrival in the capital a tele-
gram from Chemulpo announced the departure of the
Ashington from Gensan early on the following day. We
had therefore only time to take a short stroll round the
city and visit a few shops before making our preparations
for the return journey. As we entered the main street we
saw coming towards us from the palace a long procession
escorting a high official of the Court, who was borne aloft
in an uncovered chair. The escort maintained a continuous
yelling to announce to the world the approach of their
A NIGHT RIDE FROM SEOUL 21

august master ; but they marched in more orderly fashion
than the rabble which usually composes a Chinese procession,
and on the whole they presented a less ridiculous appear-
ance. The official himself appeared to be habited in the
ordinary Corean Court dress, which we had a better oppor-
tunity of examining on the person of a Court official who
came more than once to Pak-tung during our short stay,
bringing royal messages to Herr von Moéllendorff. His
horsehair head-dress had two wings or ears projecting
horizontally from the back towards the right and left, very
similar to those which may be seen in the portraits of
ancient emperors of China. Around his waist was a stiff
girdle, large enough to encircle two men of his size, and
his embroidered robes were not of the cleanest. Altogether
he presented very much the appearance of some of the
characters one sees on a Chinese stage when an historical
play is in progress, though he was decidedly too shabby
for a respectable theatre.

The ponies of Seoul were markedly superior to those of
Chemulpo, and we started away pretty briskly on the sea-
ward road, our mafoos jogging merrily along after the
ponies, undismayed by the dreary night march before them.
Arrived in the middle of the watercourse, by which we had
approached the city, we were temporarily stopped by a bull,
laden with so huge a burden that he had become jammed
tightly in between the houses on either side of the way.
A continuous stream of pack-horses and cattle was winding
along in each direction, and the jam threatened to get
more and more serious, till by dint of much loud talking,
22 COREA

which convinced us—ignorant as we were of the language—

that the Coreans are adepts in the art of imprecation, we
managed to get clear. An hour brought us easily down
to the river; and we had crossed the sandy plain in front of
it, waded the two streams which wind through it, and
reached the fair roadway before darkness descended.

Soon we reached a little house by the roadside, and the
cavalcade came to a halt, while one of our mafoos hammered
resultlessly at the door, till at length, losing patience, he
smashed it open with his foot. An angry altercation
ensued between the mafoos and those within, which lasted
so long that our patience also became exhausted, and we
induced the mafoo in charge of the baggage pony to
continue the journey, leaving his companions behind.
Gradually, as we proceeded on our way, escorted by the
one mafoo, we heard the sound of angry voices growing
fainter and fainter in the distance. We speculated on
the cause of these remarkable proceedings, till one of our
party reminded us of the American humourist’s description
of his cruise in a canal boat, during which the captain
delayed the voyage while he went ashore to break up
the ‘ grocery,’ returning the next morning, battered but
triumphant. The mafoos, he said, had doubtless called a
halt while they went to break up a grocery. We accepted
the explanation as satisfactory, and proceeded on our way,
till we came to a fork in the road.

Our guide was evidently at fault; he could not be sure
which was the proper course. Another halt was therefore
made while he yelled to the mafoos in the rear. We
A NATIVE CONCERT 23

added our lung-power to his; but all was unavailing—the
grocery was not yet demolished. There was nothing for it
but to wait, and we sat there silently in the dark, our
ponies quietly grazing, till we saw a light approaching in
the distance. Our other mafoos, one of them carrying a
lantern with a couple of inches of candle in it, soon loomed
in sight. They pointed out the right course, and once
more we proceeded on our way. The mafoos behind began
to cheer the lonely ride with selections from some of the
latest productions at the Royal Corean Opera House. One
of them was gifted with a basso profondo which would
have admirably qualified him to play the heavy villain in a
transpontine theatre, while the other approached more nearly
to the light tenor. From time to time during the whole
course of our long night journey the heavy villain and the
light tenor, apparently untired by their weary march,
favoured us with choice operatic selections, howled out
with the full force of their lungs, but yet not altogether
unmusical.

Soon after leaving the fork in the road we entered a
little village, and at one of the houses the same interesting
performance which we had witnessed before was repeated.
Another wordy altercation, containing, it is to be feared,
many terms which will not be found in a Corean trans-
lation of the New Testament, ensued between the mafoos
and the grocer; and we began to fear that we should find
groceries too numerous along the route. At last the
mafoos emerged from the house with a new lantern, and
we proceeded once more. The performance was repeated
24 COREA

from time to time till we grew accustomed to it; but
farther on the journey a pleasing change took place.

Nearing one village we observed a ruddy glow ahead;
and on reaching the spot we found a bonfire of dried
grasses blazing in the middle of the road. Several
villagers were gathered round the fire, and one of these,
after seizing a long pine torch and lighting it, ran along
in front of us, casting a bright glare on our way. Oc-
casionally, as the flame went down and the torch began
to smoulder, he brandished it about in the air to pro-
duce a current and so feed the flame. Sometimes he
would twirl it completely round, sending the fiery brand
whizzing within two or three inches of the leading pony’s
nose, casting a shower of sparks around him, and en-
veloping us all in a dense cloud of smoke. The ponies,
however, moved along with the gentlest placidity. Nothing
can disturb the equanimity of a Corean pack-horse. When.
he reaches a point at which he is accustomed to stop, no
amount of pounding will induce him to move on; and no
efforts of persuasion will induce him to move for any length
of time in any other position than with his nose touching
the tail of the pony in front of him.

From this point till almost the end of our journey
we were never without a villager running or walking ahead
of us with a light—a torch of pine or dried grasses, or a
lantern with a candle in it. Sometimes the stages were
long, and sometimes short; but at the end of each stage
the light-bearer returned to his home, his place being taken
by a resident of the spot to which he had brought us,
LINK-BOYS 25

Sometimes, when the torch was of dried grasses, the bearer
would be beset by a growing fear lest it should burn out
before he reached the end of his stage, and he would sud-
denly start off at a brisk speed, the ponies, who well knew
what was expected of them, shambling along behind and
keeping pace with him. Whether it is one of the duties
imposed by the State upon Corean villagers to light the be-
lated traveller upon his way we were unable to learn; but
certainly we never saw our mafoos reward any of the torch-
bearers, and out of the pittance which they received it is
difficult to imagine how they could have afforded to do so.

Towards ten o’clock we reached the halfway house, and
settled down to an hour’s halt. We entered the hostelry,
and made ourselves at home at one end of the room, ‘while
our ponies were accommodated at the other. Our end had
a boarded floor, raised a foot or so from the ground, and.
covered with mats, on the edge of which we could sit very
comfortably while we discussed our dinner. Our friends
at the capital had provided us each with a quart bottle of
beer, and a goodly store of provisions; and as we spread
out our feast on a small stool brought to us for the pur-
pose, mine host of the halfway house, his native guests,
and our mafoos crowded round in good-humoured curiosity
to obtain a lesson in Western civilisation.

Having satisfied our appetites, we made over the re-
mains of the dinner to the natives, some of whom we also
treated to what was evidently their first taste of German
beer. With one exception they expressed their high opinion
of the liquor in the most unmistakable terms; but this one
26 COREA

man—perhaps the future Father Mathew of his country—
took but a single mouthful, and ejected it with an expression
of extreme disgust.

We were soon mounted and off again, the heavy ruffian
and the light tenor singing with renewed vigour in the
exhilaration of their spirits. Somewhere about midnight
we reached the bottom of a steep hill. Here two lads with
lanterns came forward to light us on our way. One walked
on ahead with a large square paper lantern, and the other
followed with a second light behind; but even with this
brilliant illumination the ascent was by no means pleasant,
and the descent was even less so. With the ponies clatter-
ing down over an invisible stream of loose stones, their
backs having an inclination of somewhere near forty-five
degrees, the sense of security was not excessive; andif we
had met with an accident and slid down the hill ponyless and
in a sitting posture, it would have been but small consolation
to us to know that we were not the first Europeans who
had come down the hill in this undignified fashion. How-
ever, we reached the bottom in safety, and flattered our-
selves we were out of danger. A few minutes later, a dire
catastrophe occurred before our eyes. Our leading light-
bearer took advantage of the opportunity, as soon as the
descent was completed, of taking a peep at his candle to see
whether it was likely to last till the end of his stage. After
gazing at the light for a few seconds, his eyes were too
dazed for him to see what was before him ; and, oblivious of
his danger, he walked straight over the steep edge of a
yawning precipice which skirted the pathway, and tumbled.
A FALL DOWN A PRECIPICE 27

clean to the bottom, which luckily was here only ten or
twelve feet below. The front pony, losing sight of his
guiding star, stopped dead, with his feet on the edge of the
cleft, while the rest of the cavaleade came perforce to a
halt. For a few seconds all was still, and we feared the
poor fellow was badly hurt; but we soon heard him whim-
pering below in answer to the inquiries of the mafoos, who
presently descended the ravine and administered a drub-
bing to the unfortunate youth. Some five or ten minutes
was occupied in searching for half an inch of candle-end
which had fallen out of the lantern in its descent. The
men then scrambled out on to the road, and the youth was
sent packing home, still whimpering, but somewhat consoled
by a dose of medicine which we administered to him in the
shape of a handful of copper cash.

After another hour’s ride in the dark, over a terribly
rough road, the ponies were thoroughly worn out, and
humanity and stiffness compelled us to dismount and walk.
As far as the brutes were concerned, however, our humanity
was a failure, for our places were immediately taken by the
mafoos. It was three o’clock in the morning when the sea-
port was reached.

Chemulpo was in a state of intense excitement over the
return of the Dai In Kun, who had arrived while we were
at the capital. A dense crowd of Coreans, with a sprinkling
of Japanese, had collected in front of the Chinese Con-
sulate, where his Royal Highness was staying. Corean
officials, wearing peacocks’ feathers in their hats, were
hurrying to and fro, and a double line of marines from the
28 COREA

Chinese man-of-war kept order and prevented the rabble
from blocking up the path, along which officials were con-
tinually arriving to pay their respects to the Prince. It
sounded very strange, and somewhat significant, to hear
the words of command, ‘Shoulder arms!’ ‘ Order arms!’
‘Right turn!’ and so forth, delivered’in our Western bar-
barian tongue, and responded to with military promptitude.
Crowds of Coreans had collected along the road in the hope
of seeing the Prince start on his march to the capital; but
as we learnt on good authority that he was not likely to
leave Chemulpo that day, we boarded the Ashington, and
awaited her departure for Gensan.

Some thirty hours after leaving Chemulpo the monotony
of the voyage was relieved by the announcement that Port
Hamilton, then lately added to the Empire in which the
sun never sets, was then close at hand. Telescopes and
binoculars were soon brought into requisition, and a little
later, as the Ashington passed within three or four miles of
the entrance of the harbour, we obtained a capital view of
it. On the slopes of the three islands which form the
splendid natural harbour we could discern signs of pretty
extensive cultivation ; while in the harbour itself some nine
or ten vessels of the British fleet were lying at anchor, the
great Agamemnon plainly distinguishable among them.

There were at the time of our visit only five European
residents in Gensan, and these represented four different
nations ; but a row of semi-European houses ran along the
Bund, having a pretty appearance from the sea. The
place has a fine, healthy climate. Game of almost
GENSAN 29

every description abounds. Fine large salmon were ex-
posed for sale for a few pence each, and oysters might be
had in any number for the picking up. The oysters we
found exceedingly good, while the salmon, though not
equal to that of England or Scotland, is in no degree
inferior to that for which Hakodate, in Japan, is celebrated.
Unlike Chemulpo, Gensan is very little affected by the
tide, the rise and fall being only a very few inches. One
corner of the harbour is usually frozen in winter; but as
far as the ordinary anchorage the port is open all the
year round. A few miles above it is Port Lazereff, the
harbour upon which Russia is believed to have long been
casting greedy eyes. Overlooking the settlement is one of
the numerous beacon-hills which are found in all parts of
the country. They are used for flashing from point to
point to the capital of the kingdom signals by which his
Majesty is enabled to assure himself every night that each
province of his dominion is resting in the enjoyment of
tranquillity.

The people of this eastern coast we found entirely good-
humoured and well-disposed towards foreigners, though
rather troublesome in their intense curiosity as to the
manners and customs of the strangers who had come
among them. Picnicking some few miles from the settle-
ment, we were entirely hemmed in by an admiring crowd
of Corean men and half-naked children, whose good
humour was immensely strengthened by the present of.a
few empty beer and wine bottles—articles so highly prized

by the natives that, in the early days, foreigners were fre-
5
30 COREA

quently offered more for them than they had cost. including
freight from the land of their birth, when filled with the
best of good liquor.

Our party got separated during the day, and on our
rejoining forces Captain Hepworth, of the Ashington, had a
wonderful story to relate of a Corean damsel of surpassing
loveliness whom he had encountered in the course of his
rambling, but who had fled wildly at his approach. It was
noted as a remarkable fact with regard to Corean architec-
ture that the bridges are so constructed that one has to
swim to and from either end of them. The inference was,
however, rather rash, as we came across only one bridge of
this description, and it is possible either that the bridge
had been originally built for a narrower stream or that the
stream had grown out of it, like a schoolboy out of his pants.
In any case the fact remains that the bridge was there, over
the stream we had to cross, and yet we were compelled to
wade nearly to our knees before reaching it and after leaving
it. The arrangement, however, was not without its advan-
tages, as it enabled one member of the party to create a
little innocent mirth among his companions by inadver-
tently sitting down in the middle of the stream.

~ On the occasion of our second visit to the northern port
of Corea, some twelve months later, the little band of five
Europeans who formed its Western population had become
still further diminished, and of Englishmen not one was
left. We relieved the monotony of our enforced stay of
three days, while waiting for the conjunction of fine weather
and calm sea which would enable cargo to be discharged,
QUARANTINE 31

with one or two pleasant duck-shooting excursions on shore,
and before sunset on Monday, November 9, we were at last
steaming along the shores of Asiatic Russia.

On the following evening we threaded our way among
the numerous islands which guard its entrance, and soon
found ourselves in the midst of the ‘Golden Horn,’ the
magnificent harbour of Vladivostok, Russia’s great naval
station on the Pacific. We were slowly moving towards
the anchorage when the puffing andssnorting of a steam-
launch was heard through the darkness. Captain Walker,
our genial skipper, began to grown nervous. Some months
previously there had been several cases of cholera in Naga-
saki, and, although that port had now been pronounced
entirely free of infection for several weeks, it was quite pos-
sible that the Russian officials, who pay but little regard to
foreign merchant shipping interests, would enforce quaran-
tine regulations. Our captain’s fears proved only too well
grounded. The steam-launch, with naval and medical
‘officers on board, came close up to us, and a voice with a
strong foreign accent hailed us and asked, ‘ Where are you
from?’ ‘Nagasaki,’ replied the captain. ‘Corea?’ asked
the naval officer. ‘Yes.’ ‘Karrantine.” The captain
muttered an imprecation, and we slowly backed into the
quarantine harbour. We learnt that we were to spend
three days here on board, and that the ground of our
detention was an alleged outbreak of cholera in Corea, of
which we had certainly heard nothing either at Fusan or
Gensan.

In the quarantine harbour we met an old friend, the
32 COREA

British steamer Memling, which we had encountered in
Shanghai, and again at Nagasaki. The captain hailed us
with a shout of welcome, and inquired our fate. On learn-
ing that we were quarantined for calling at Corea, he
replied with a cheerful laugh that he had been quarantined
for not calling there, but that his term of imprisonment
would expire in the morning.

The lights of Vladivostok, stretching up the face of the
hills at the back of the harbour, presented an exceedingly
pretty appearance at night; and by day we could amuse
our ample leisure by taking occasional shots at a small
whale, of the species known to sailors as ‘black fish,’
which was disporting itself in the harbour. When this
amusement failed us we could indulge in the pastime
known as ‘bull,’ or ‘deck-quoits,’ and occasionally the
visit of a steam-launch from shore relieved the monotony,
for the pretence at isolation was very feebly carried out.
However, in spite of these diversions, the three days were
wearisomely long, and we hailed with delight the appear-
ance at noon on the third day of a steam-launch bringing
to us the medical officer of the port. Without the smallest
pretence of making a medical examination of passengers or
crew, he gave us permission to proceed to the anchorage,
and two hours later we set foot upon Siberian soil.
CHAPTER III

VLADIVOSTOK

The first sight of Siberia—Russian officers and German merchants—A
Siberian hotel—Landing baggage—A five weeks’ delay—Danes,
Germans, English, and Americans—Sunshine and frost—Public
buildings—Mexican dollars and Russian roubles—Expenses of the
journey—Sledges—Outfit—Life in Vladivostok—Drunkenness and
gambling—A suicide’s funeral—A German brewery—Tigers—A big
bag—A German singing club—Vodka—Russian robbers and Manza

pirates.

Tue traveller who enters the great Russian Empire for the
first time by its Eastern gates can scarcely fail to experi-

ence a strange sensation |Z
ez

as though he were entering
into He
may be familiar with the
ancient semi-barbarous
civilisations of China and
Japan; but, though the
streets and wharves of
Vladivostok are thronged
with pig-tailed Celestials
and Corean coolies, these
are evidently strangers in
a foreign land. The tra-
veller, on his way to the

a new world.

 

1

 
  
   
  
 
    
   

ANN
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A \\)
:

i

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wT

 

 

 

northern port, will almost of
34 VLADIVOSTOK

necessity have seen something of the European colonies
and settlements which are dotted about the Eastern seas
and along the shores of China and Japan. To these
colonies and settlements*nearly every nation of Western
Europe has contributed something of its national charac-
teristics; but still in nearly every case it is the English
influence that is predominant. At every open port in
China, Japan, and Corea, the Englishman finds his own
language to be the recognised medium of communication
between foreigners, and everywhere he can feel himself at
home.

As soon as he passes the northern boundary of the
Corean Peninsula all this is changed. Vladivostok, the
‘Ruler of the East,’ is less distinctively Russian in its
tone than any town we were to pass through during the
next four months of our travels; but, nevertheless, the
national characteristics were everywhere apparent. Pro-
ceeding from the wharf, through the Chinese bazaar or
market-place, and along the main street towards the one
hotel which the town then boasted, every third European
we met was dressed in the uniform of a civil, naval, or
military officer of the Russian Empire. Along the street,
flanked on either side by wooden houses of a type seen
nowhere out of Russia, carts were driving, with the curious
duga, or heavy wooden arch, rising in every case above
the horse’s head. In the centre of the town are two
imposing brick buildings, one, in castellated form, com-
prising the offices and stores of a German firm, the leading
merchants of the port. For the trade of Vladivostok is
THE VIEW TO SEAWARD 35

nearly all in foreign—chiefly in German—hands. The
better class of Russians are almost all of official rank, the
naval element of course greatly
predominating. The town is
situated at the base of a little
range of hills, from the crest of
which fine views are obtained of
the beautiful harbour, Peter the
Great's Bay, and away to the
right the Amur Bay, the narrow
neck of land across the Golden
Horn, and the numerous islands
beyond. The harbour itself could
afford an anchorage for an entire

 

 

 

 

fleet; and if only its waters
would remain open during the winter, it would be difficult
to find its equal anywhere in the world. Its entrance is
guarded by forts said not to be very formidable; and a
conspicuous object on the water was a large floating dock,
which, though its construction had been commenced several
years ago, was yet far from complete.

Under the kindly guidance of a friendly resident, we
were soon safely ensconced in two little cupboards, each
containing a camp bedstead, and embodying the best
accommodation to be obtained at the ‘ Hotel of the Golden
Horn,’ or ‘Golden Gate Hotel.’ The first is a literal trans-
lation of the Russian title, and the second is the English
rendering of that title which appears over the doorway.
Soon a long line of Corean coolies was marching in proces-
36 VLADIVOSTOK

sion through the town, bearing on their backs the formi-
dable array of baggage which we were about to convey
across two continents. A comfortable folding mattress,
with accompanying pillows, quilts, and blankets, formed
one man’s load. Shot-guns, Winchester rifles, cartridges
enough for a protracted siege, and a pair of formidable
revolvers made up our armament of sport and war; a huge
box of canned provisions relieved us from all fear of starva-
tion on our journey, and a case of brandy and whisky,
smuggled in with ease under the eyes of the customs
officer, reminded us that we should not be entirely with-
out creature comforts when removed from civilisation. We
flattered ourselves that nothing requisite for ease and com-
fort in travelling had been forgotten. We had, however,
overlooked one important ele-
ment of comfort--the reduc-
tion of baggage to the smallest
possible compass; and this
element we subsequently at-

 

tained in some degree by an
occasional judicious jettison-
ing of cargo.

We soon ascertained that
we had arrived in Vladivostok
much earlier than was neces-
sary for our purpose. The
winter road from this port
winds northward, crossing on its way the Khanka Sea—a
large, shallow lake, measuring some sixty or seventy miles

 

 

 

 
FOREIGN RESIDENTS 37

from north to south, and nearly forty from east to west.
In summer it is crossed by small steamers, which continue
their journey along

 

the Sungacha and
Ussuri rivers to the
junction of the latter
with the Amur at
the great military
centre of Khaba-
rovka. Long before
we arrived, however,
the steamboat ser-
vice had ceased for
the winter, although
it would probably be
another six weeks before the ice on the surface of the lake
would have attained a sufficient strength to admit of
sledging in perfect security. In every spring and autumn
there is, in fact, a transition period between the time of
hard frost and that of open-water navigation during which
travelling in Siberia becomes almost an impossibility.

We had thus to resign ourselves to at least a five
weeks’ residence in the little naval port. But in spite of
our limited knowledge of the Russian language, we soon
found that we could obtain a fair amount of diversion to
relieve the monotony of this long period of waiting. In
addition to its considerable German population, Vladivostok
shelters a goodly number of Western-European residents
of other nationalities. Foremost among the foreign insti-

 

 

 

 
38 VLADIVOSTOK

tutions is the terminal office of the Great Northern Tele-
graph Company, whose cables connect the Imperial Russian
land-lines with the treaty ports of China and Japan.
From the superintendent, Mr. Sonne, and his wife—an
English lady—and from the numerous subordinate officers
of the company, all of whom spoke English with the
purity which hardly any other nation achieves in so high
a degree as the Danish, we received constantly a hospitable
welcome. Mr. Sonne has, at one period and another,
spent many years of his life in Vladivostok. Being a keen
naturalist and sportsman, he is intimately acquainted with
all the features of the surrounding country, and he was
the means of securing for us, while the weather remained
favourable, more than one pleasant excursion into the wild
country surrounding the little town whose rapid growth
he had watched almost from the days of its infancy. The
English residents are few in number. They comprise, in
addition to Mrs. Sonne, Mr. Hagemann, a British merchant,
from whom we obtained much kindly assistance; a gentle-
man who has for many years occupied a responsible
position at the Imperial arsenal; one or two whaling
captains, and an old sailor. We were told also that two
of the Russian officials of the port were married to English
wives, but that these ladies, having spent almost all their
lives in Siberia, were more Russian than the Russians
themselves. Two American merchants, one married to a
lady of his own nationality; a few Danes, and a Frenchman,
conducting, after the manner of his nation, an excellent café,
nearly completed the list of non-Teutonic foreign residents.
PUBLIC BUILDINGS 39

The sun was shining brightly, and, indeed, almost
fiercely, on the day of our arrival; and it seemed difficult
to imagine that during the previous night the thermometer
had fallen several degrees below the freezing point. For
Vladivostok, despite the cold which in winter covers the
whole harbour with a thick sheet of ice, lies on a parallel
of latitude considerably south of Marseilles; and even in
the depth of winter, we were told, there are few days on
which the dripping of water from the icicles pendent from
the roofs does not bear witness to the power of the noon-
day sun. Hailing an ‘ ishvoshtchik,’ or driver of a vehicle
for hire, we set forth to survey the scene of our coming six
weeks’ sojourn.

Vladivostok has a variety of
public buildings; but they are
none of them very imposing.
The Government offices, dignified
by the names of the ‘ Treasury
and the ‘Chancelerie,’ are little
better than log-huts. The ‘Ad-
miralty’ has a somewhat more
striking appearance, being sur-

 

mounted by a dome, from which
the national naval flag is generally
waving; and a considerable amcunt

 

of elaborate carving graces the
front of the ‘ Naval Club,’ at which
the majority of the official classes spend a considerable
portion of their time at billiards, cigarette-smoking, and

 
40 VLADIVOSTOK

card-playing. The Greek Church is a singularly plain
and unattractive erection, suggesting by its diminutive
size that the orthodox residents of the port are not very
zealous in their devotions; but a little Lutheran chapel,
with whose German pastor we became acquainted, is
interesting as being, if I mistake not, the only Protestant
place of worship in the whole of Eastern Siberia. Beyond
the town is a brick-making establishment, carried on by a
Danish firm; but at present Vladivostok appears to have
emerged but a very little way out of the Age of Wood. A
‘substantial brick house, with some pretensions to archi-
tectural beauty, was, however, rising up in a pleasant
position above the main street; and this, we were informed,
was destined to serve as an hotel, conducted on English
principles. We sincerely wished the enterprise had been
brought to a successful issue before our arrival, for our
first experience of the luxuries of Russian hotels did not
prepossess us in their favour.

. For the first day or two after our arrival we found
ample occupation in the arrangement of our finances.
Vladivostok numbers more than one bank-agent among
its residents ; but, nevertheless, we had found that the
only plan by which we could make sure of not being left
in the lurch was to bring our resources with us from
China in the shape of hard cash. When it is remembered
that the sole currency among foreigners in the Far East
is the Mexican dollar—a clumsy coin, about the size of a
crown-piece, nominally worth four shillings, but at that time
actually fetching only about 3s. 2d. owing to the lamentable
THE ‘CHIT’ SYSTEM 4!

fall in the value of silver—it will be seen that there were
considerable inconveniences in this mode of monetary
transfer. The system has its advantages in China. The
coinage in use is so utterly unmanageable that none except
a few eccentric individuals ever carry money about with
them. Everyone lives on credit. For the smallest article
of daily consumption he presents a ‘chit,’ or ‘I O U,’ and
at the end of each month the bills are brought to him, and
—sometimes—paid. However, we feared that the Siberians
would not prove quite so confiding as Shanghai tradesmen,
and we had accordingly shipped by the steamer on which
we travelled a small sealed box of ‘merry Mexicans.’ For
some reason travellers are usually very chary of mentioning
the cost of their expeditions; but in view of the possibility
that some of my readers may be induced by my example
to undertake a journey into Northern Asian snows, I will
endeavour to place before them as nearly as possible the
precise monetary cost of suchan adventure. The box, then,
contained exactly sixteen hundred dollars; and, in addition,
we had with us, after paying our expenses to Vladivostok,
some fifty or sixty Mexicans, and a small reserve fund in
pounds sterling—say in all 2751. Travelling in Siberia
is very cheap, and we were assured that we were unneces-
sarily burdening ourselves with funds; but we thought it
best to be on the safe side. We calculated that, at the
very worst, this sum would land us in a civilised town,
whence, if necessary, additional funds might be wired for ;
and, as a matter of fact, we arrived in Moscow with a
margin which was nearly sufficient to carry us comfortably
6
42 VLADIVOSTOK

to London by easy stages, extending over a period of
nearly three weeks.

The coinage of Russia is, to all intents and purposes,
an unconvertible paper currency. A silver rouble is occa-
sionally seen; but even when found it is only to be
obtained at an expenditure of at least one and a half
rouble notes, so greatly has the paper money depreciated.
There are probably more silver roubles to be found in
Vladivostok than in almost any other Russian town, the
reason being that the Corean and Chinese merchants, with
whom much of the trade of the port is carried on, regard
the rouble note with a distrust which does credit to their
sagacity. For a similar reason Mexican dollars are in
great request in the town, and we were congratulated on
having performed a successful stroke of business in bring-
ing our money in this form. Ultimately, after some little
difficulty, we succeeded in exchanging our dollars with a
Chinese merchant for rouble notes, at the fairly remunera-
tive rate of 1°83 rouble per dollar, the paper rouble being
at that time worth about two shillings.

Having satisfactorily completed this exchange, we next
turned our attention to the important question of outfit.
The first requisite of Siberian travel is a good sledge. It
is true that the voyager may, if he likes, travel by pere-
cladnaya—that is, changing his sledge at every station, and
paying a trifling fee each time for the use of a Government
vehicle; but as this necessitates the packing and un-
packing of baggage about four hundred times during the
journey, at all hours of the day and night, and sometimes
SLEDGES 43

having to put up with exceedingly uncomfortable convey-
ances, this method is not often adopted by those who are
on pleasure bent. Unfortunately a good sledge is almost
unprocurable in Vladivostok. The traveller proceeding
eastward may purchase at Tiumen a strong, comfortable,
Kazan-made sledge for a mere trifle; and, having sub-
mitted it to all the rough treatment of a five-thousand-mile
journey, may sell it at Vladivostok for considerably more than
the original cost. The westward-bound traveller, however, is
not nearly so well situated. For our part we secured with
some difficulty a second-hand vehicle, which, though any-
thing but beautiful in appearance, was certainly roomy,
and to our inexperienced eyes looked strong. It cost us
70 roubles, and during our journey we spent 71 roubles
upon it for repairs. I will not anticipate matters by here
dilating upon the annoyance, the delays, the discomfort,
and, I regret to say, the occasional strong language of which
that sledge was the cause. I only mention the matter as
a warning to others about to indulge in a similar adventure
to be certain they have secured a sledge which is not liable
to a constant succession of break-downs, such as always
take the opportunity of occurring when one is several
miles from a town.

The sledges in ordinary use by Russians travelling in
Siberia are of three kinds—the vashok, a vehicle entirely
inclosed, and resembling a huge brougham on runners;
the kachovka, a great open sledge, roughly built of wood
and matting, and with no covering except a piece of matting
or felt to spread over the recumbent figures of the travellers
44 VLADIVOSTOK

in snowy weather; and the povoska. The conveyance
which was to be our home for the two or three months of
our journey belonged to the third class. It was a large,
deep, roughly built sledge, open in front, but covered in at
the back with a canvas hood lined with thick felt. The
driver’s seat consisted of a flat board, apparently de-
signed by a coachbuilder ignorant of the fact that a sledge-
driver is, like other human beings, gifted with a pair of
legs. From this board sloped downwards and outwards,
till their points nearly touched the ground on either side, a
pair of stout ash poles, designed partially to prevent the
vehicle from overturning, and partially, like the scythes of
an ancient British war-chariot, as weapons of defence and
attack. For, as we were to learn by painful experience,
there are parts of the journey during which collisions are
of almost hourly occurrence; and the outrigger serves not
only to protect the sledge from damage when meeting with
an opponent of superior strength, but to drive weaker
enemies in the shape of freight sledges from the roadway,
or to force a passage through their midst.

In the way of armour to repel the attacks of cold, we
each purchased—firstly, a double deerskin kuklianka. This
is an excellent hooded garment of Kamchatdale manu-
facture, and is almost as much of a curiosity in Western
Russia as in England. It has no buttons, or other fasten-
ing; but is drawn over the head like a smock-frock, and
tightened round the waist by a belt and round the throat
by a scarf, the hood being either thrown back on the
shoulders or worn over the head, like a monk’s cowl. In
OUTFIT 45

addition, we each purchased a long shuba, or coat of rough
sheepskin, with the wool turned inwards; a camel-hair
bashlik, a combination of hood and scarf; fur-lined caps,
and fur gloves made like those of our infancy, with

 

 

 

    

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one compartment for the four fingers together, and another
for the thumb. For the feet we procured goat’s-hair
stockings, dogskin socks of Chinese manufacture, and thick
felt boots coming up above the knees. A large sheepskin
rug, lined with felt, together with the folding mattress and
46 VLADIVOSTOK

pillows which we had brought with us from Shanghai,
completed our equipment; and when we surveyed our
purchases, half filling our little apartments at the ‘Golden
Horn,’ we were convinced that in the event of our being
frozen to death no coroner’s jury could attribute the oc-
currence to a lack of proper precautions. One veteran
Russian traveller, indeed, regarded these extensive pre-
parations a little scornfully, advising us to discard either
the kuklianka or the shuba; but later experience, with the
thermometer at 65° Fahrenheit below zero, proved that ho
single part of our outfit could have been safely dispensed
with.

Our arrangements were soon made. Our landlord had
kindly undertaken to procure for us all the Government
papers necessary for our journey; and, imposing a trust
in him which unfortunately did not prove warranted,
we rested on our oars and looked about us for means of
beguiling the tedium of our enforced five weeks’ stay. The
hotel itself afforded us »mple opportunities of studying one
phase of Russian colonial life, and it cannot be denied
that we saw much that a stern moralist would condemn.
Europeans in the Far East are often accused, not altogether
unjustly, of being unduly self-indulgent; and Shanghai at
one time possessed a particularly unenviable reputation in
this respect. Even in these days it must be admitted that
a lapse from sobriety is regarded as a more venial offence
among foreigners in China, and indeed in all parts of the
East, than it is at home; but in this regard Shanghai
certainly does not hold a candle to Vladivostok. It was no
A SUICIDE’S FUNERAL 47

uncommon occurrence to see naval, military, and civil officers
of high rank staggering about the billiard and bar room of
the Golden Horn Hotel in an almost helpless state of intoxi-
cation ; and we heard, and were to some extent able to corro-
borate the statement from personal observation, that heavy
gambling was very widely indulged in. A few days after our
arrival we saw brought ashore at the wharf the body of an
unfortunate lieutenant of artillery who had been drowned
by the capsizing of a boat, the accident being admittedly
due to drunkenness ; and later on the town was startled by
the news that a young lieutenant—a prominent member
of Vladivostok society, secretary of the Amateur Dramatic
Club, and leader in all social movements—had blown his
brains out, having failed in a desperate attempt to borrow
money for the purpose of covering defalcations into which
he had been led by losses at cards. According to strict
Russian ecclesiastical law, we were told, no suicide is
entitled to Christian burial; but in this case at least the
funeral rite was performed in its entirety, the only dis-
tinction made being that the ceremony did not take place
till after sundown. The funeral procession was followed
by the deceased’s comrades in arms, the company of which
he had been lieutenant—the military band playing a
funeral march—and a large number of prominent resi-
dents of the port. According to the custom of the Greek
Church the body was borne along uncovered, the coffin-lid
being carried before it by six of the mourners.

Some four or five miles from the town, on a picturesque
spot overlooking the Amur Bay, some enterprising spirits
48 VLADIVOSTOK

have, within the last few years, established a brewery of
beer. The scheme was not very successful at first. The
beer produced was not sufficiently palatable either to induce
the Russians to renounce their favourite vodka, or to wean
the Teutonic population from their native brew, imported
in bottles. Latterly, however, under experienced German
hands, an excellent beverage has been produced, and the
industry promises to be highly successful. The road to
the brewery forms the pleasantest drive in the neighbour-
hood, and in the summer the grounds are converted into a
kind of biergarten. This had been closed for the winter
long before the time of our arrival; but, nevertheless,
there was one object of interest remaining in the grounds
which was of itself sufficient to repay a visit. This was a
wooden cage resembling a huge mousetrap. Some little
time before, the brewer had been seriously inconvenienced
by the periodical nightly visits of a tiger to his grounds.
This animal, besides causing the brewer a certain amount
of alarm on his own account, carried off some two or three
fine dogs. The trap was accordingly constructed, baited,
and set for the beast, and, after a few nights, the tiger
seized the bait and locked himself in. He was a fine, large
brute, and during the first few days after his capture all
Vladivostok flocked to the brewery to pay him a visit. He
was subsequently sold, and carted through Siberia on
show. We heard a rumour that he had broken loose in
Tomsk, but we ascertained, on arrival there, that there
was no truth in this story.

Tigers are rather numerous in the neighbourhood, but,
TIGERS A9

having plenty of deer’s meat always within easy reach, they
seldom attack men. Sportsmen when deer-shooting, how-
ever, occasionally experience exciting encounters, and the
animals are sometimes even seen on the posting road.

Mr. Hagemann told us that in the winter of 1885 he
was sledging between Khabarovka and Vladivostok when
a tiger suddenly made his appearance on the high road
some distance ahead of the sledge. The horses at once
stopped, and our friend entered into an animated con-
ference with the driver as to the course that should be
pursued. Mr. Hagemann suggested that one of the horses
should be cut loose and sacrificed, but the driver refused
to do this unless his fare would guarantee him the cost of
the animal. To this Mr. Hagemann demurred, and no
uction was taken beyond remaining patiently still until the
tiger deigned to move slowly from the roadway, when
the sledge continued its journey.

The most remarkable tiger adventure we heard of, how-
ever, was that of a young Russian—scarcely more than a
boy—who actually killed three large tigers single-handed,
thus making one of the biggest bags on record. Having shot
a deer and allowed it to lie where it fell, he returned some
hours later to take possession of his prize, when he found the
carcass devoured, and three tigers lying sleeping around.
He lifted his rifle—an ordinary Winchester repeating car-
bine, I believe—and shot the three in succession, killing two
and wounding the third. The wounded animal sprang at
him and tore the flesh of his arm before he succeeded in
despatching it.
50 ; VLADIVOSTOK

One excellent institution in Vladivostok, which has done
yeoman’s service in promoting the success of the brewery,
is the German Singing Club, a very pleasant musical and
convivial society to which nearly all the German male
population, many of the Danish, and some few Russians
belong. Every Wednesday evening during the winter the
members meet together for practice, and every Saturday
evening they hold a species of private concert. ‘There being
few social institutions to enter into rivalry with this club,
the singing members devote themselves to the study and
practice of music with wonderful application and energy,
and our stay in Vladivostok was enlivened by some of the
pleasantest evenings of combined part-singing and beer-
drinking which could possibly be imagined. It would not
become me to place on record the number of empty bottles
which covered the floors and tables of the club rooms as
these nights wore on; but to the Russian, whose one idea
of conviviality is to gulp down, in rapid succession, petits
verres of raw spirits, it might well have taught a lesson in
the higher pleasures and less baneful effects of indulging
in copious draughts of a mild and wholesome beverage. |

For vodka, the universal Russian drink, is not remark-
able for either mildness or wholesomeness. It is easily made.
Economical householders always manufacture it at home.
They purchase a bottle of undiluted spirit of wine and mix
it with an equal quantity of water. That is all. It is
never further diluted; never mixed with aerated waters.
It is drunk from liqueur or small wine glasses, and the one
commendable point connected with its consumption is that
VODKA SI

it is usually drunk with an accompanying ‘zakouska,’
a morsel of black or white bread with a scrap of caviar,
smoked salmon-back, raw salt fish, sausage, or other
delicacy. A rather amusing story went the round of
Vladivostok during our stay. It was said that an officer
of a British steamer then in port, having learnt how to
make vodka, bought a bottle of the raw spirit and took it
on board, intending to mix it with water. During his
absence from the ship the Scottish engineers found the
bottle, and, not being able to read the Russian label,
supposed it to contain properly prepared vodka. They
finished the bottle. Russian heads are said to be strong,
but Scotch are evidently stronger.

In early days the inhabitants of Vladivostok suffered
much from thievish raids by the native Mongolian races—
Tungus or Manchurian—Manzas, as they are usually
called by the Russians, the name being also frequently
applied in Vladivostok to the Chinese emigrants who flock
to the port in the capacities of merchants, coolies, and
house-servants. M. Cotteau, who visited Vladivostok in
1881, declares that it was not then prudent to venture by
night too far from home, on account of the probability of
an attack by Manza robbers, or even, he had been told, by
soldiers. Of late there has been an improvement in this
respect; but even now the danger is not altogether
removed, as was proved by one or two events which
occurred during our stay. One evening an attack was
made on the brickworks which I have mentioned as lying
on the outskirts of the town, and the Danish proprietor
52 VLADIVOSTOK

received a somewhat severe wound from an axe. The
brickmaker had, however, armed himself with a gun,
which he used as a club, breaking it across the body of
his assailant, who then decamped with his companions.
A few days afterwards a Russian soldier went to a
physician for surgical treatment, and displayed wounds
which bore suspiciously the appearance of having been
caused by the brickmaker’s gun. As he could not satis-
factorily account for his injuries he was arrested; but up
to the time of our leaving Vladivostok we had not heard
the result of the investigations.

A far more serious outrage than this, however, occurred
a few days after our arrival in Siberia, though, as the victims
were only Coreans, the event attracted little or no attention.
While we were negotiating our monetary exchange in the
office of a foreign merchant, a small party of Coreans entered
for the purpose of making purchases of T-cloths and other
articles of Western manufacture. We were afterwards told
that these men, having completed their purchases, set off
on their return journey to Corea in a native junk, and had
not long left the harbour when they were attacked by Man-
churian pirates, who put every one of them to death and
made off with the booty. The news of this outrage was
brought to Vladivostok by a party of Coreans who saw the
attack in the distance from another junk, but were either
unable or afraid to go to their countrymen’s assistance. An
endeavour was made to get the Russian authorities to take
the matter up with a view to clearing their coast of these
pirates, but without result.
CHAPTER IV

DLER-STALKING IN EASTERN SIBERTA

A voyage in the Anna—The beginning of winter—Close quarters—
Perog—Strelok Bay—An abandoned Finnish settlement—A life
of adventure—A steady nerve—A smoky chimney—The Samovar
—Deer-stalking in the snow—Human deer—The moccasins of the
savage—A re-christening—Wary deer—An improvised tea-kettle—
Blood-stained tiger tracks in the snow—A dead shot- Our bag—A
feast of deer’s liver—-Siberian venison—Return to Vladivostok.

On the morning of Friday, November 19th, new style,
or 7th according to the Calendar of Eastern Europe,
the Russian sloop Anna, Captain Hook, left Vladivostok
‘bound for Strelok Bay. Her crew consisted of four, all
told; namely, her captain, a hardy old Finlander, Mr.
Radcliffe, her English chief officer and cook, and two
ordinary seamen—a Corean and a Russian. She carried
four saloon passengers—Mr. Karl Schoultz, photographer,
Lieutenant Ratzul, of the Russian Sappers, Mr. C. J.
Uren, and the author; while in the fore cabin, which was
also the fo’c’sle, was the lieutenant’s soldier-servant. My
comrade and I had, three days before, accepted with de-
light an invitation to join a party of sportsmen who were

bent on a week’s deer-shooting in the wild, uninhabited
7
54 DEER-STALKING IN EASTERN SIBERIA

country to the northward of the ‘Golden Horn ;’ but when
we landed with our newly purchased outfit of furs—for
winter had begun to set in in earnest, and the Chinese
‘sampan’ in which we left the shore was slippery with
frozen spray—we were puzzled for a moment to know
where the party were to be stowed; for the sloop’s cabin
was scarcely more than six feet by six in measurement, and

 

 

 

a considerable portion of this space was occupied by the
cooking stove and dining table. But the mate, who, in the
absence of Captain Hook, did the honours of the vessel,
pointed out to us that in addition to the two bunks which
stretched along the port and starboard sides of the cabin
and served as seats by day, there extended from the back,
not more than three feet from the roof, a kind of platform
spreading over a portion of the ship’s ‘hold’ and fore-
THE SLOOP ‘ANNA’ 55

castle. Into the narrow space between this platform and
the roof, four men could crawl head-foremost and sleep
more or less comfortably side by side.

Soon the captain and all the passengers were on board,
and with a favourable breeze we were scudding northwards
along the Siberian coast. Here we had our first foretaste
of the rigour of a Siberian winter. Our kukliankas kept
our bodies comfortably warm ; but we found that leather,
even in the form of stout, waterproof shooting-boots, is ill
adapted for excessive cold. A frozen sensation about the
toes drove us into the cabin, and we were not surprised to
hear a few minutes afterwards that the captain had been
called forward in the capacity of medical officer of his ship
to attend a case of frostbite which had broken out among
his crew.

We had a goodly store of provisions on board. A huge
round of beef served as the pidce de résistance, and as this
lay always on the table, whenever one felt hungry one
could hack a lump off and gnaw away at it. There was,
too, a plentiful stock of minor delicacies—German sausages,
smoked salmon-back, Dutch cheese, potted meats, and jams ;
but the supply of plates and table implements was somewhat
lacking. However, we were soon revelling in the delights
of ‘roughing it.’ Mr. Radcliffe was a famous hand at soups,
and as the one cabin served as kitchen as well as bedroom
and dining saloon, we had all the pleasure of seeing the
savoury mess preparing under our eyes. If occasionally
a foreign substance found its way into the pot, it was easily
removed, and, as our motto was ‘every man for himself,’
56 DEER-STALKING IN EASTERN SIBERIA

the additional delight was afforded of fishing for choice
morsels with a spoon. At our first meal Mr. Schoultz
produced with triumph a gigantic specimen of the Russian
national dish—the perog, or fish-pie. In this case the
perog consisted of layers of paste, meal, smoked salmon,
and white cabbage, with a covering of wheaten crust. It
is a curiously flavoured dish, but by no means to be
despised by a hungry man. ‘The Russians are exceedingly
fond of perog; indeed, it is only a few months since a
peasant got himself into serious trouble for expressing his
fondness for it in too unmeasured terms. After working
his way through a particularly delicious perog, he declared
that he would rather kiss the girl who had made it than
the ikon, or sacred picture of the Russian national church.
This terrible piece of blasphemy having been proved against
him, he was sentenced to six months’ imprisonment; but a
higher tribunal, recognising that this was unduly severe,
subsequently remitted five-sixths of the sentence. Our
perog was certainly not unappetising when it arrived on
board; but I should not have thought it worth even a
month’s imprisonment. Moreover, the table being chiefly
occupied by the beef, a place was found for it on the floor;
and, as our space was exceedingly limited, we frequently
found ourselves walking about in the pie. The fragments
were subsequently gathered together and put in a safer
place; but somehow it remained rather neglected after
this treatment.

It was nearly nightfall when at leneth we came to
anchor close in shore in Strelok Bay, and we were soon on
A FINNISH SETTLEMENT 57

land surveying the deserted scene where, a few years before,
a hopeful young colony had been planted. For, some twenty
years ago, a large party of Finnish emigrants obtained a
grant of land from the Tsar and settled down in this pretty
bay, Captain Hodk, the commander of the Anna, being the
leader of the expedition and master of the vessel in which
the emigrants sailed from Europe to Siberia, and Mr.
Schoultz one of its most active members. The attempt at
colonisation had proved a failure; but many of the Finnish
emigrants are still to be found living comfortably in the
towns and villages of Eastern Siberia. Their log-houses
at Strelok Bay have entirely disappeared; but a close
examination of the soil in many places still reveals the
signs of former cultivation.

Since those days Captain Hodk had led a remarkable
life of adventure. Sometimes living far away from civi-
lised towns, surrounded by savage tribes, sometimes whale-
fishing off the coast of Kamchatka, he had amassed a
wonderful store of curious knowledge, and could tell many
marvellous tales of adventure. After one of his expeditions
he returned to his lonely house to find his whole family
and household murdered by Tungus rovers. To this
incident I never heard the captain refer; but to the
deep influence that the terrible event had had upon his
life, and upon his manner of regarding the whole Chinese
race, his friends in Vladivostok bore strange testimony. As
a tiger-slayer he had established quite a wide local reputa-
tion; and one story told of him is very characteristic of his
coolness of manner and steadiness of nerve. It is said that
53 DEER-STALKING IN EASTERN SIBERIA

he was once strolling along with his rifle in his hand in
search of deer, when a tiger suddenly sprang from cover and
crouched down a few yards in front of him. Advancing age
has compelled the captain to take to spectacles; and on
this occasion they had become dimmed in a manner which
was not likely to conduce to a sure aim. The captain
accordingly removed his glasses, carefully wiped them,
replaced them, then raised the rifle and shot the beast
through the heart.

_It was too late for any expedition on the day of our
arrival; and accordingly, after a short stroll, we returned
to the sloop, and turned in for the night. Creeping feet-
foremost into the crevice which was to accommodate four
of our company, I was soon stretched out for sleep; but
the comfort would certainly have been greater had it not
been for the stove, the chimney of which served rather
for ornament than for use. The most exciting moments,
however, were those when the captain rose from his bunk
and replenished the fire. Dense volumes of black smoke
would then rise from the stove, and come curling into our
strange bedplace, from whith, as the end was blocked, they
found no outlet. Mr. Schoultz and the lieutenant, who
were lying with their heads turned inwards, would slowly
crawl out half suffocated, and venture their remonstrances.
‘What's the matter?’ asks the captain. The lieutenant
says. something vigorous in Russian, and Mr. Schoultz
complains in English of the smoke. ‘Smoke!’ says the
captain, ‘there’s no smoke; it’s steam from the kettle,’
and, chuckling, he betakes himself to his bunk. We re-
ROEBUCK 59

sign ourselves to the carbonised air, and are soon fast
asleep.

By daylight the next morning we were all astir. The
samovar, the great brass tea-urn heated by charcoal—the
foremost and most important of all the Russian household
gods—was soon steaming ; and, having fortified ourselves
with glass after glass of hot tea, accompanied by chunks
of cold beef and bread, we were quickly on shore, trailing off
in different directions, singly or in pairs, in search of deer.
It was my first experience of this species of sport, and Mr.
Schoultz, an old hunter, took me under his protection,
and initiated me into the mysteries of deer-stalking. A
thin layer of snow was on the ground, but as the day wore
on the weather became quite mild, and the melting of the
snow upon our boots told us that the thermometer scarcely
stood as low as freezing point. It was a magnificent
country over which we tramped. Fine hills rose around
us on every side, and as we climbed laboriously up their
steep slopes, forcing our way through thick undergrowth, in
spots perhaps never trodden by man before, we caught
sight, between the hill-peaks, of pleasant glimpses of the
sea on almost every side, for we were on a narrow neck of
land jutting into the ocean. All the morning a thick mist
hung over the valleys, and, though occasionally we heard
the curious barking of a species of roebuck, which abounds -
in these districts, all efforts to approach them were fruitless.
Later in the day the mist lifted, and several times we saw
a small herd of roebuck grazing on the hillsides or in the
valleys. But the conditions were unfavourable to sue.
60 DEER-STALKING IN EASTERN SIBERIA

cessful stalking, and always long before we could get within
easy range we saw their white tails gleaming above the
long grass, as they scampered off and disappeared from
sight over the slope of a hill, a fruitless bullet or two
speeding after them.

Despite the snowy prospect, it was warm work clamber-
ing over the hills amidst the thick undergrowth; but my
companion had nevertheless donned his heavy deerskin
kuklianka, experience having taught him that in this guise
he could approach much nearer to the herds than in any
other hunting costume, the animals probably mistaking
him. for one of their own species. The adoption of this
guise was not altogether without its risks; for it had
happened more than once that a deer-stalker, catching a
glimpse between the trees of what was undoubtedly a
portion of a deer’s hide, had taken aim and fired, with
disastrous consequences to a fellow sportsman.

At length we reached a little open brook, and regaled
ourselves with a meal of cold beef and perog, washed
down with sparkling water, and, after a few more fruitless
efforts to secure a prize, turned our faces disconsolately
towards the boat. Iam afraid it was not altogether with
regret we learnt that the remaining members of the
expedition had been no more fortunate than ourselves.
It was late at night when Mr. Uren and the lieutenant
arrived at the boat. In the endeavour to steer across
country by compass they had lost themselves, and at
nightfall had struck the shore miles away from the boat:
Here they had fortunately struck on a little native Tungus
A NEW BAPTISM 61

camp, where they obtained refreshment and temporary
shelter. My fellow voyager appeared with his legs and
feet encased in a wonderful pair of skin moccasins, of a
type seen nowhere out of Siberia. His own patent
American hunting boots having given out, he had, by a
mixture of bribery and the awe inspired by the Russian
military grade of his companion, succeeded with some
difficulty in inducing his Manza host to part with the
moccasins off his feet.

It was pleasant to sit round the fire in the smoky little
cabin and rest our weary limbs, while we related our
adventures of the day, and told and listened to tales of
travel and life in various quarters of the globe, though we
were often inclined to curse the foolish ambition of the
tower-builders of Babel. if it be true that to them we owe
our multiplicity of languages. All of us, however, could
converse in the English language with the single exception
of the lieutenant, with whom those who knew no Russian
had to communicate in fragmentary French. Uven and I
had received, on our entrance upon the expedition, a new
baptism, our English appellatives being declared unpro-
nounceable by Russian tongues. Our names were trans-
lated into the language of the Tsar, according to the
universal method of address which prevails in Russia,
Uren becoming Karl Ivanovich, or Charles the son of
John; and I, Lev Rikardovich. This style of address
appears to anyone but a Russian exceedingly cumbersome
and awkward ; but it is nevertheless de rigueur. Even the
Emperor appears in all official documents as Alexander
62 DEER-STALKING IN EASTERN SIBERIA

Alexandrovich ; and in all classes of society it is exceed-)
ingly rare to hear any one addressed by his family name.
As Ivan, or John, is at least as common in Russia as in
England, and as the fathers of half the Johns were Johns
before them, one rarely finds oneself in a company of
moderate size where there is not more than one ‘Ivan
Ivanovich’ present. They are as plentiful as John Joneses
in Wales, and give rise to no less confusion.

At an early hour we retired to rest, bent on retrieving
our fortunes on the following day. But Mr. Schoultz and [
were again unlucky. Early in the day I succeeded in
getting within easy range of a fine young roebuck, fired,
and wounded it, but failed to track it, and lost my only
chance of distinguishing myself. I rejoined my companion,
and soon his practised eye discerned some light-coloured
objects moving amid the trees on the slope of a far distant
hill. We quietly made our way to within three or four
hundred yards of the spot, and then clearly distinguished
two fine large-antlered stags and two hinds. J remained
behind, and left the chase to my more experienced comrade,
watching him from behind a tree as he slowly crept up to
the unconscious animals. He had scarcely got within
firing distance, however, before an old stag scented danger,
and lifted his nose in the air. Mr. Schoultz fired at once, but
without apparent effect, and the four deer bounded away
over the brow of the hill. Disconsolately we walked for-
ward, and surveyed the now deserted feeding-ground ; but
we soon relieved our disappointment with nips of whisky
and draughts of hot tea, for we had to-day taken the pre-.
TIGER TRACKS 63

caution of bringing with us a kettle improvised from an
empty preserved-meat tin. There was no water to be
found, but here and there a small patch of snow remained
searcely soiled, and little by little we filled our small kettle
as the snow melted within it; and although the concoction
may have gained an unwonted flavour from the fragments
of dried leaves of the forest which had been put into the
pot with the snow, it was refreshing enough.

After an unsuccessful but by no means uninteresting or
uneventful day’s sport, we proceeded boatwards along a
ridge of snow-tipped hills. My companion told me that
this ridge had been noted in the old days of the Finnish
settlement as a favourite tiger-walk; and we had pro-
ceeded but a little farther when we saw winding along in
the snow before us the tracks, evidently quite recently
made, of a large tiger. There was the round pad of the
foot with the four toe-marks before it, so clear and perfect,
that even to a ‘griffin’ like myself the nature of the game
was unmistakable. Some of the footprints were stained
with blood, and the marks of human feet with those of a
dog by the side, told us that Captain Hook had followed the
crest of these hills before us. Speculating as to whether
the two series of footmarks had any connection, we de-
scended into a hollow, and soon a roebuck ran right across
our path some distance ahead. We both fired, but our
bullets dropped short, and immediately afterwards we heard
a rustling as of some animal pushing its way through the
long grass below us. It was probably a tiger, my companion
said, but I was not anxious to investigate. It would cer-
64 DEER-STALKING IN EASTERN SIBERIA

tainly have been a triumph to enter Vladivostok with the
rigid corpse of a tiger placed in a life-like position at the
prow of our sloop; but there would have been a certain
amount of risk attaching to the attempt. One of the
pleasures of tiger-shooting in a frigid climate is the imposing
style in which the successful hunter can make his entry
into town. While the body of the tiger is stiffening with
frost, it is placed in some becoming attitude—rampant or
regardant, passant or couchant—and allowed to become
rigid in this form. It is thus placed on the front of the
hunter’s sledge, and so rides triumphantly into town.
Vladivostok has more than once turned out en masse_to
witness this strange sight.

On arriving at the last hill overlooking Strelok Bay, we
saw no signs of the boat; but we soon discerned it lying
in the next bend of the shore, known as Rasboinik Bay.
Having bestowed our blessing upon the unknown member
of the party who was responsible for leading us astray, we
proceeded to the spot, and found that the sloop had been
removed for the purpose of taking on board a fine stag
and hind, which had fallen victims to the captain's skill.
He had come upon three deer feeding together, and, armed
with a Winchester repeater, he had killed one and wounded
each of the others—one so badly that he was quickly able
to overtake it and bring it down with a second shot. The
captain’s dog followed the third, and as it returned with
fangs covered with blood, it was evident that all three deer
had been brought down—no mean achievement. The
dog, which was not a highly trained animal, resisted every
A BAIT FOR A TIGER 65

effort to induce it to lead its master to the spot where it:
had brought down the third deer, and the hope of finding
it was abandoned. With regard to our tiger, the captain had,
like ourselves, seen nothing more of it than its footprints;
but he had baited the track with a richly poisoned mass of
the deer’s entrails. Next morning the bait had disappeared ;
but no dead tiger was found, and whether he or some
unfortunate animal belonging to a smaller species of carni-
vora had partaken of the unwholesome feast we were unable
to discover.

For the next two days and a half we continued to stalk
the country with varying fortunes. On the third morning
we shifted our ground, and anchored in the bay of a little
island where some deserted huts on the beach marked the
site on which a party of natives had encamped during the
summer. We found the little island fairly stocked with
game, for the smooth water between these isles and the
mainland becomes at midwinter entirely frozen over, and
the deer frequently cross over from Siberia on the ice and
found new colonies. We had stayed only an hour or two
on the island, and added but one roebuck to our stock of
game, when the blue-peter was metaphorically hoisted, and
we speedily set sail homeward bound. We had in all seven
deer on board, three large antlered stags, a hind, and three
roebucks—not a specially big bag, but not to be sniffed at,
especially when it is remembered that two of the party were
‘griffins’ and contributed nothing to the score. At the
worst, too, our bag provided us with a magnificent feast of

fried deer’s liver during each of the last three days of our
8
66 DEER-STALKING IN EASTERN SIBERIA

expedition ; and subsequently, when on shore, we tested the
qualities of the Siberian roebuck as a venison-producing
animal, .and found it immensely superior to anything we
had tasted in. that line since leaving England. We had
confined our attentions entirely to deer, though we were
told that. there were, in the neighbourhood of Strelok Bay,
some good natural pheasant preserves; and a few flocks of
wild duck still remained, though thousands of their brethren
had migrated southwards some weeks earlier. Had we been
anxious for a more exciting species of sport we might have
varied. the monotony of tiger-hunting with an occasional
search for a bear, of which some large species infest the
locality.

We started northwards, patiently reconciling ourselves to
a long and tedious voyage beating against the wind. How-
ever, the thermometer stood many degrees higher than
when we started on our little expedition. The headlands
and capes, standing boldly out in the beautifully clear
air, looked exceedingly pretty, and the little sloop, with her
figure-head formed of a walrus skull—a trophy of one of
the captain’s whaling expeditions in Kamchatka—scudded
over the water with a pleasant motion. After a time the
wind, which for five days had remained steadily opposed to
our return, veered round a little, and within ten hours we
were once more at anchor in Vladivostok harbour.
CHAPTER V

VLADIVOSTOK——-THE START

Ocean sledging—Wanted, snow and ice—A snowfall and a transforma-
tion—A jovial Ispravnik— Sei chas ’—‘ British arrogance ’—A friend
in need—Passports and podorozhnayas—Cattle-lifting—An officer
and a perfect gentleman—Exasperating delays—The last trip of the
Baikal—Dismal forebodings—Parasites and kidnappers—A Russian
dish—A purga—More delays—Off at last.

Tue traveller who has made up his mind to sledge his way

homeward from Vladivostok usually begins his experiences

with a taste of the pleasure of ocean sledging—starting
away across the frozen harbour and skirting the coast as
far as the mouth of the Suifun River, up which he glides to
the little town of Rasdolnoi, connected in summer with
Vladivostok by regular steam communication. But the
winter of 1886-7 was somewhat late in setting in. Day by
day we watched the slow progress of the ice, which at length
began to skirt the shore in the most sheltered part of the
bay; and day after day we listened with disgust as our
resident friends congratulated each other on the mildness
of the season. Our greatest cause of anxiety was, however,
the absence of snow. Between Vladivostok and the Khanka

Lake more than a hundred miles of road had to be traversed,

and as the time of our departure drew near we feared
68 VLADIVOSTOK—THE START

that we should be put to considerable expense and in-
convenience in transporting our sledge, our baggage, and
ourselves over this snowless track. Early in December we
received the welcome news that the Khanka Lake was
frozen over, and that in a few days it would be passable,
but we had hardly been inspirited by this intelligence when
we heard that a violent storm had smashed up the ice on
the surface of the lake, and nature had to begin all its work
afresh.

At length on the morning of December 7 a prospect of
unbroken whiteness from our hotel windows gladdened our
eyes. Snow had fallen heavily during the night. At once
the whole street locomotion underwent a change. Scarcely
a wheeled vehicle was to be seen. Little roughly built
sledges, with their contents raised but a few inches from
the ground, served the purpose of waggons and carts; and
pretty little light vehicles on runners took the places of
carriages and traps.

Already for some days the hotel had been filled with
military officers, waiting, like ourselves, for the winter road
to open, that they might proceed to their respective stations
up country; and among other expectant travellers was an
Ispravnik, or governor of a district, about to return to his
home in the north. He was a jovial boisterous soul, with
none of the dignified reserve which might be expected to
attach to one who filled so exalted an office. Indeed, he
appeared to be the life and soul of the merry company with
whom he was generally to be seen, and I often deeply re-
gretted that my almost entire ignorance of the Russian
language prevented me from appreciating the quips and
‘SEI CHAS’ 69

sallies with which he used to set the table in a roar. After
the first fortnight of our acquaintance with the Ispravnik, my
comrade and I arrived at the conclusion that he never put
off the disguise of liquor in which we had invariably seen
him enveloped ; but subsequently we met him on more than
one occasion in a condition bordering on sobriety. However,
this little failing on the part of the gallant officer did not
prevent us from receiving with gratitude and pleasure an
offer from him to accompany us as far as Khabarovka, to
smooth the official path for us, and to present us to the
Governor of the Maritime Province, who would probably
give us papers which would remove all difficulties from our
pa h for the rest of our journey.

Two days after the snowfall the Ispravnik sent a
message to us bidding us be ready on the second day, and
we at once communicated with the landlord on the subject
of our papers. ‘Seichas’ was the reply. ‘Sei chas’ always
is the reply in Russia. It is supposed to signify ‘at once,’
or ‘immediately,’ but if the traveller who receives. the
answer imagines that his needs are going to receive imme-
diate attention he will find himself grievously disappointed.
Finding after twenty-four hours that not the slightest pro-
gress had been made, we took the matter out of his hands,
and with the kindly assistance of a friend—Mr. Heidermann,
of the Imperial Russian Telegraph Service—we ultimately
brought it to a successful issue. We found it no easy task,
and but for the patience and perseverance with which Mr.
Heidermann devoted himself to our interests our difficulties
would have been infinitely greater than they were.

From Shanghai we had each brought with us a docu-
70: VLADIVOSTOK—THE START

ment emblazoned with the Royal Arms of England, request-
ing and requiring in the name of her Majesty all those
whom it might concern to allow us to pass through Siberia
without let or hindrance, and to afford us every protection
of which we might stand inneed. Our difficulties, however,
began long before we reached Russian soil; the Russian
Consul objected to viser the passports. Her Majesty, he
argued, might ‘request’ the Russian authorities to assist
us; but she had no right to ‘require’ them to do anything
whatever.

A similar case had occurred shortly before. The Rus-
sian Consul had refused to countersign a passport unless
the obnoxious words ‘and require’ were struck out. The
British Consul-General flatly refused to alter the passport,
which was in the invariable wording of such documents, not
only in England but in most continental countries; and the
Russian Consul then expressed his willingness to counter-
sign it if the holder would himself, on his own responsibility,
strike out the words objected to. The traveller, however,
stood on his rights as a Briton, and refused to make the
alteration required, with the result that he had to proceed
on his journey with a useless passport, in the hope of getting
it visé in Japan. In our case the Consul, on learning that
this highly important matter had been referred to the
English Foreign Office, signed our passports and contented
himself with entering a protest against the arrogance of her
Majesty’s demand.

When, however, we applied in Vladivostok for a permit to
travel—a podorozhnaya as it is called—we discovered that
PODOROZHNAYAS 71

our English passports were by no means sufficient. We
had first to lodge at the Chancelerie a Russian translation
of the English passport, then to receive a document signed
by the Governor of Vladivostok graciously according us
permission to reside in the Tsar's dominions for the space
of twelve months. Then, on presenting this at the
Treasury, we could obtain our podorozhnaya.

A podorozhnaya is a document which enables the holder
to demand from every station-master along a particular
route the use of a certain number of horses at a fixed tariff of
payment, and the services of a driver, known to the Russians
as a yamshtchik, or, to give the word its colloquial pronun-
ciation, yemshik, as far as the next station. It entitles the
holder to free lodging at every station along that route, and,
if he wishes it, to the use of a Government sledge or tarantas
(a springless wheeled vehicle) on payment of a small fee.
There are three kinds of podorozhnayas. The first is the
courier’s podorozhnaya, the holder of which simply flies. It
is almost as much as a man’s life is worth to delay a courier.
The man holding this podorozhnaya can, if there are no
Government horses at his disposal, demand the use of
animals belonging to private individuals. It is not an un-
alloyed pleasure to travel with a courier, or even with a
courier’s pass. Our landlord at Vladivostok boasted that
he had once made the journey thence to Petersburg in
forty-one days; but I doubt if he enjoyed it. It means
travelling incessantly, day and night, never staying any-
where long enough to obtain a decent meal or an hour s
rest; and it is an experience which only men of extra-
72 VLADIVOSTOK—THE START

ordinary physique could endure. The second class of per-:
mits to travel is the Crown podorozhnaya, which is obtain-
able by any military or naval officer or Government servant.
Occasionally a Crown podorozhnaya is granted to a private
individual, but very seldom. Its advantages over the
third, or private podorozhnaya, consists in a priority of claim
for horses. A merchant may have been waiting for hours,
or even days, at a post-station, and just as he is about to
start, a petty official may arrive, demand the only available
horses, and leave the merchant to exercise his patience
until another team arrives, when he will stand a good
chance of experiencing a similar disappointment. The
courier’s and Crown podorozhnayas are given free to those
who are considered entitled to them; for the private pass,
which can be obtained by anyone who has a clean record
at the police office, a tax is demanded of half a kopek per
horse per verst. A kopek is about a farthing, and a verst
is two-thirds of a mile; and as podorozhnayas are usually
taken out for two horses, the tax thus amounts to about
a shilling for every thirty-two miles. Two or three men,
however, usually travel with one podorozhnaya, and the
cost per man is thus reduced.

Relying on our own resources, we had come to
Viadivostok without official introductions of any kind; and
consequently the common or private podorozhnaya was the
best we were able to obtain. At length, after repeated
journeys to the Chancelerie and Treasury, and by dint of
bringing the friendly influence of the Ispravnik to bear on
the Governor, our papers were received in due order two
A PERFECT GENTLEMAN 73

days after the date fixed for our departure, and it was
definitely decided that a start should be made next morning.
The caravan was to consist of two sledges, the Ispravnik
being accompanied by an ex-military officer who had just
been stripped of his uniform by court-martial and sentenced
to a term of exile in Yakutsk on a charge of having used
his troops for the purpose of making armed raids on the
Coreans and stealing their cattle. Part of the sentence
was that he should proceed to Yakutsk on foot; but
friendly influence is often very effective in inducing Russian
officials to wink their eyes, and, the exile having given his
parole of honour that he would not attempt to escape, our
friend the Ispravnik had offered to give him a lift as far as
Khabarovka, where he could remain for the winter and
proceed to his destination in the following spring, the Court
having granted him an allowance—amounting, I think, to
some fifteen or sixteen shillings a month—to live on during
his exile. At first we felt a little doubtful about accepting
the companionship of aman convicted of systematic ‘robbery
with violence,’ but we were assured by a friend that the
ex-officer was a ‘perfect gentleman,’ and we consoled our-
selves with the reflection that more than one noble British
family owes the origin of its fortunes to similar exploits.
The ice was now beginning to stretch across the harbour,
and on December 10 the last merchant steamer of the
season—the Baikal—left for the south. Our retreat was
now cut off, and if the idea of abandoning our enterprise
had occurred to us, we should have had to reconcile our-
selves to four or five months’ residence in the frozen port.
74 VLADIVOSTOK—THE START

In former years the Baikal used to make one later trip
from China and land her cargo on the frozen bay; but on
one occasion the ice gave way, and several hundred pounds’
worth of cargo went to the bottom; and the experiment
was not repeated.

The accounts of Siberian travel which we had heard
since our arrival had not been altogether reassuring ; and
we soon perceived that even the Russians themselves when
bound for Europe appeared to infinitely prefer the ocean
route. One excellent friend, who had been ten years in
Vladivostok, drew for our delectation, with the kindliest
intentions, dark pictures of the fate in store for us if we
persisted in our perilous enterprise. He informed us of
the exact number of loathsome insects which would prey
upon our bodies at every post-station, and pictured us as
lost in some obscure village, unable to communicate with
those about us or to make known our wants, powerless to
obtain the necessary means for making our way backwards
or forwards, a prey to robbers, in conflict with venal,
unjust, and extortionate officials who would ill-treat us and
imprison us till an expedilion sent by our friends should
come to our relief—if, haply, it came in time. In calmer
moments he admitted that the picture was overdrawn ; but
he justified the excess of colouring on the ground of his
anxiety that if we came to grief it should not be for want
of warning. Another friend spoke to us in all seriousness
of the danger of our being kidnapped by Cossacks and sent
to work in the mines; and he advised us to wire to our
friends from every telegraph-station along the route, so
THE ENGLISH FOR ‘ ROSBIF’ 73

that in case of our being overtaken by this fate, our friends
would know where to commence the search for our discovery.
Old travellers, however, gave us reassuring accounts of the
voyage, and we did not allow ourselves to be discouraged.

On the morning of Tuesday, December 14, all was
prepared for a start. A supply of fresh provisions had
been prepared under the direction of the landlord of the
‘Golden Horn,’ and duly frozen ready for transport. Mine
host, who in the course of his wanderings had picked up
perhaps half a dozen words of English, endeavoured with
gusto to describe to us in our own language the feasts he
had prepared for us. He got along swimmingly until he
came to a dish which is known in his language as ‘ Rosbif’
—not altogether dissimilar to another Russian dish, called
in the vernacular ‘bifshtek.’ Mr. Geletsky vainly racked
his brains in the endeavour to call to mind the English
name of this dish, and at last, turning to Mr. Hagemann,
who, though an Englishman, speaks Russian like a native,
he asked, ‘ What is the English for ‘“‘ Rosbif”’ ?’

All, then, was prepared by Tuesday morning ; but never-
theless we did not rise ina very hopeful frame of mind.
During the night our rest had been disturbed by the howling
of wind in the chimney, and when in the morning we looked
out from the windows to see what was in store for us a
strange sight met our eyes. A purga was raging—one of
those fierce snowstorms which visit with especial violence
the eastern shores of Asiatic Russia. Close in front of the
hotel stretched a little mountain range of snow, with fan-
tastically curled peaks, partially hiding the view from our
76 VLADIVOSTOK—THE START

windows on the second floor. Very little snow appeared
to be falling; but the air overhead was dense with fine
white powder whirled up from the snowy ground to above
the roofs of the houses, a quantity even insinuating itself
through crevices of doors, creeping up staircases, and finding

 

 

 

 

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purga, but minus the cold—for the

a resting place almost

at the feet of the huge
stoves which of neces-
sity occupy so large
a portion of the space
in Russian houses.
Through this blind-
ing snow a few hardy
spirits fought their
way to the hotel,
and, while fortifying
themselves for a fur-
ther battle with the
storm, cheered the
hearts of the tra-
vellers with stories
suggested by the
scene without. This,
we were told, was a
thermometer as yet

registered only a few degrees of frost; and we were left to
imagine the delights of spending two or three days in an
open sledge in the midst of Khanka Lake in forty or fifty
degrees of frost, with the biting wind driving the snow into

 
A PURGA 77

our faces, and with every vestige of the track obliterated—
an experience which had happened to at least one resident of
Vladivostok while returning home from Khabarovka.

All idea of starting that day had, of course, to be
abandoned. Had we been willing ourselves to face the
storm, it would have been impossible to obtain either horses
or yemshik. Business, indeed, appeared to be suspended,
the streets being utterly impassable for vehicles, and all but
impassable for foot passengers. Before five o’clock in the
evening the hotel, which was usually filled with convivial and
noisy spirits till the small hours of the morning, was closed,
and the servants were in bed, with the exception of one
Chinaman who had been instructed to serve us with dinner
in our cupboard-bedrooms. We soon, however, convinced
the household that a profound knowledge of the Russian
language is not necessary to the purpose of effecting a tem-
porary reform in the Russian system of hotel management.

By the following morning the wind had subsided.
Hundreds of Chinese and Coreans, as well as a good many
Russians, were soon engaged in cutting pathways through
the mountainous drifts of snow, and by midday locomotion
once more became easy. It was arranged that our sledge
should start at once, and that tle Ispravnik and the cattle-
lifter should follow us next day, catching us up before we
arrived at the Khanka Lake. Ona messenger being de-
spatched to the post-station for horses, however, he returned
with the comforting intelligence that they would be ready
for usin two days. We repaired to the station, interviewed

the station-master, and tried remonstrance and bribery, but
9

x
78 VLADIVOSTOK—THE START

without avail. There were but four troikas, or sets of three
horses, kept for Government posting purposes; and as
numbers of travellers bound for neighbouring inland towns
had, like ourselves, been waiting for the winter road to
open, there was a demand altogether exceeding the supply.
There were six Crown podorozhnayas and a greater number
of private ones before us. Had we then possessed the expe-
rience of Siberian travel which we afterwards acquired, we
should have at once gone in search of horses belonging to
private individuals, which are nearly always to be obtained
in Eastern Siberia for at most a little more than double
fares; but as it was we resigned ourselves patiently to a
further delay of two days. On the following morning the
Ispravnik and the convict officer took their departure; and
at nine o’clock on Friday morning, December 17, or the 5th
according to the Russian Calendar, the first troika, or set of
three, out of the thousand odd horses which were to carry us
to the borders of civilisation appeared in sight. They were
three shaggy, ungroomed animals, looking quite unfit for the
work before them ; but experience soon taught us that there
is a wonderful degree of strength and staying-power in
these Asiatic horses. Astride the first sat a yemshik
bearing before him a huge duga—the wooden arch which
forms so conspicuous a portion of the harness of every
draught horse in Russia, from the Baltic to the Pacific.
Brilliant with blue and red and green paint, it presented—
when fastened to the shafts above the head of the central
horse of our troika—a striking contrast to the dingy vehicle
which for the next nine weeks was to be our home.
OFF ! 79

The packing of a Siberian posting sledge 1s a science
which cannot be

 

mastered in a
single lesson; but
with some difficulty
our huge array of
baggage was fitted
in, completely fill-
ing the sledge up
to the level of the
driver’sseat. Over |
the whole our thick

folding mattress |
of raw cotton was

spread, and having

donned our furs

 
  

we were soon com-
fortably ensconced
amid pillows and

 

rugs; and, waving

farewells to the
friends who had
collected to witness

wyeg om sbpys m0

 

the setting out of

our expedition, we
started off at a

ee es,

gallop on the first
of the four hundred odd stages which were before us.
CHAPTER VI

VLADIVOSTOK TO KHABAROVKA

Good-bye to Vladivostok—The effects of the purga—First experiences
of road-sledging—Sledge bells—The first post-station—Tea-drink-
ing in Russia—Wellington bellows—Sledging by night—An un-
welcome equine visitor—Tigrova—Rasdolnoi—Fall of the thermo-
meter—Nikolsk—Kamen Ruiboloff—An unexpected meeting and a
welcome rest—The Khanka Lake—Marvellous effects of frost and
storm—Slow progress—Frost-bitten yemshiks—Libellous loyalty
—Russian emigrants—He had never heard of London—-The Sun-
gacha—The borders of China—The mails—An affectionate statosta
—The Ussuri—The perfection of sledging—Siberian post-stations
and peasants’ homes—Kazakevitch—Arrival at Khabarovka.

Ar last we had fairly started. The many disheartening
obstacles which had arisen one after another in the way of
our departure had all been overcome, and it was with a
keen sense of relief and of pleasurable expectancy that we
settled ourselves comfortably among our cushions as the
horses turned their backs on Vladivostok and plunged up
the steep ascent leading over the brow of the hills at the
back of the port.

For the first five or six hundred yards our prospects did
not look very encouraging. The effects of the recent purga
were everywhere painfully apparent. The slopes of the
hills looking seawards, which had been exposed to the full
OVER THE HILLS 81

fury of the storm, were entirely denuded of snow, and the
horses struggled painfully as they dragged the heavy sledge
up the steep inclines, grinding the loose stones under our
iron-shod runners. Then in the valleys, where the snow
had drifted to a depth of many feet, the animals found their
work scarcely less toilsome. But one must not be too
sensitive to the suffering of his horses if he would travel
through Siberia with a quiet conscience.

 

  
   
  
  
 

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In a little while the road improved. The sun shone out
brightly, and the weather became so mild that even while
reclining in a sledge we found a single sheepskin coat almost
too warm for comfort. The exhilarating sensation of glid-
ing over a smooth snow road, with three fresh, high-spirited
horses galloping before us, raised our spirits to the verge
of exultation, and a sledge journey through Asia appeared
to us the most delightful of holiday excursions. As soon
82 VLADIVOSTOK TO KHABAROVKA

as we were clear of the town the yemshik descended from
his perch and loosened the clappers of two large bells sus-
pended in the duga, and we had our first taste of the
music which was to accompany us from the Pacific to the
Urals. The sledge bells of Siberia are not the tinkling
silver bells of Poe’s fancy. They are often as large as an
ordinary English dinner bell. They vary in number from
one up to five or six, and are not always tuned to harmony.
At first the ceaseless clanging is by no means agreeable, but
after a time the ear becomes accustomed to it, and when
on one or two occasions, while travelling with private horses,
no bells were supplied to us, we felt that something was
wanting to the due enjoyment of sledging.

The road lay for some miles through the midst of a
dense wood, which at one time covered the whole site on
which Vladivostok stands. Foolishly enough the founders
of the Eastern port carried their work of clearing the ground
to such an absurd extent that scarcely a single tree has
been left standing within the limits of the town to afford
shelter to the residents during the sultry summer days;
but out beyond the hills the country must be exceedingly
beautiful when the trees and bushes are clothed with foliage,
and the whole country is green; and even as we saw it in
winter, when the snow lay thick under the trees, whose
branches had been swept clean by the high winds, the scene
was by no means devoid of grandeur.

Every here and there pretty glimpses of the bays could
be obtained from between the hills, the ice stretching away
for a considerable distance from the shore. Wooden verst-
THE SAMOVAR 83

posts marked at every two-thirds of a mile the distance we
had come, and the number of versts to the next station.
Just after passing the nineteenth post we came in sight of
the first of the many free hotels whose accommodation we
were to share. It was a wooden building of substantial
size, with a large railed inclosure adjoining, in which were
a number of horses. Outside were two or three sledges
laden with baggage ; and when we entered the guest-room
we found it occupied by five other travellers. A Swedish
merchant and an American whaling captain, travelling
together, formed one party. We had already made their
acquaintance in Vladivostok, and from them we obtained
a hearty welcome, and an invitation to tea-drinking. They
were proceeding to Nikolsk, a thriving little agricultural
and manufacturing town some sixty miles from the seaport.
We learnt to our chagrin that the era of delays was by no
means over. Travellers were still many and horses few ;
and there was no prospect of our resuming our journey for
twelve hours. We took advantage of the delay to enter
more scientifically into the study of sledge-packing, and,
having ordered the samovar, resigned ourselves patiently to
wait for horses.

Without the samovar winter travelling in Siberia would
be almost an impossibility. No one who has not had some
experience of sledging in Russia can properly appreciate the
wonderful sustaining power of good hot tea. Russians
have long held the reputation of drinking the finest tea to
be obtained out of China; and this reputation is thoroughly
deserved. How far the fact is attributable to their import-
84 VLADIVOSTOK TO KHABAROVKA

ing the product overland instead of by sea, and how far to
the purchase by their merchants of the best and most
expensive teas grown in China, is a question which must
be left to experts; but of the fact itself no traveller in
Russia or Siberia can be ignorant.

Much of the popularity of tea-drinking in Russia must,
however, be attributed to that excellent institution the
samovar. This is a large urn, with a receptacle for a char-
coal fire beneath, and a chimney running right through the
centre. However many the party may consist of, the teapot
is generally very small, but the brew within it is so strong
that a table-spoonful is enough for a half-pint of tea when
poured into the tumbler and diluted with water from the
boiling samovar. For tea is always drunk from glasses in
Russia, generally without milk, and frequently with a slight
flavouring of lemon. Novices accustomed to a handled cup
sometimes complain that the hot tumbler calcines the tips
of their fingers; but those who have given the system a fair
trial will admit that tea loses half its flavour when drunk
out of china or earthenware. Whatever else may fail, one
can always obtain at any post-station or cottage in Siberia
or Russia, on payment of a few kopeks, a boiling samovar,
a teapot, and glasses. Should the charcoal fire refuse to
burn well, he has the remedy at his command, as we learnt
during our deer-shooting excursion. One evening the
mate and cook announced with chagrin, when we were
impatiently waiting for tea, that the charcoal fireplace in
the samovar was clogged, and nothing would induce the
fuel to burn. ‘Have you tried the boot?’ asked Captain
THE FIRST POST-STATION 85

Hoék, who in any emergency was never at a loss. The
mate admitted that he had not, and the captain, fitting
the top of his boot over the chimney, converted it into an
excellent bellows by seizing the sole and working it up and
down. The sparks from the charcoal, which before was
scarcely smouldering, soon flew around in all directions,
and in a few moments the water was boiling merrily.

We had provided ourselves before leaving China with
a well-filled lunch-basket, containing enamelled plates,
receptacles for tea and sugar, and various table requisites ;
and we were soon brewing our tea and taking our first
meal en route. The interior of the station gave us at the
outset too favourable an idea of these institutions; for
leading out of the principal guest-room were two smaller
rooms, in each of which was a camp bedstead. This was
a luxury which we never again saw in any post-station
during the whole course of our sledge journeys either in
Asia or in Europe. Most of the guest-rooms were, it is
true, provided with one or more flat wooden benches,
unadorned by cushion or rug; but these could scarcely by
any stretch of the imagination be termed bedsteads.

At one o'clock on the following morning—a little earlier
than the promised hour—the grateful sound of harnessing
horses struck upon our ears; and a little later three sledges
—our own, with four horses attached, bringing up the
rear—were toiling up a steep hill in the midst of the black
night. Our travelling companions, we had discovered
while together in the post-stations, were all of Teuton race.
Two of them, Russians by nationality, were travelling
86 VLADIVOSTOK TO KHABAROVKA

together to Nikolaevsk; while the third, a pure German,
was bound for the neighbouring town of Nikolsk.

It requires a certain amount of practice to sleep in a
sledge on a rough, hilly road, with the knowledge that
every two or three hours, or less, oné must alight at a
station, ascertain and pay the fare for the next stage, select
and present to the yemshik a pourboire in accordance
with his deserts, see fresh horses harnessed, and repack
himself in the vehicle; and for the first night certainly the
novelty of our situation drove all thoughts of sleep from
our heads. Soon we found ourselves gliding, though but
for a short distance, on the frozen sea. It was a curious
sensation to be for the first time on a heavy sledge over
deep water; and it was difficult to prevent the mind from
speculating on the probable results of a crash through the
ice. The three sledges, however, made the passage in
safety, and a little later an amusing accident served, as
we were not the sufferers by it, to give a more pleasant
direction to our thoughts. In descending a steep hill our
sledge, being somewhat heavily laden and carelessly driven,
took charge of the horses and rushed down upon the sledge
in front, catching it just at the foot of the hill. Then
came an alarming crash. Our centre horse thrust his
head completely through the canvas hood of the forward
sledge and paid an unwelcome visit to our German friend,
who was seated within. A wild confusion ensued in the
darkness. It was some time before the three yemshiks,
by dint of much exertion and strong language, succeeded
in separating the vehicles, and at three in the morning we
pulled up safely
at the door of the
lonely post - sta-
tion of Tigrova,
so named because
it stands in the
very midst of a
tiger-infested dis-
trict.

Our German
friend treated the
little accident
which had oc-
curred to him as
a huge joke; but
when we dis-
covered that he
was travelling by
perekladnaya,and
the sledge was not
his own, we were
less surprised at
this. The front
sledge, belonging
to the two travel-
lers bound for
Nikolaevsk, was
more __ seriously
damaged, and its

A COLLISION 87

 

 

 

 
88 VLADIVOSTOK TO KHABAROVKA

occupants were compelled to stay for repairs. In half an
hour fresh horses were attached to our sledge, and we were
once more under way.

Soon after daybreak we rattled down a steep hill and
entered the little village of Rasdolnoi—the port on the
Suifun River from which in summer a little light-draught
steamer runs regularly to Vladivostok and back. Here
something of a surprise awaited us. Standing at the door
of the post-station was Lieutenant Ratzul, our companion
in the trip to Strelok Bay, who had been sent with his
company into the wilds on a wood-cutting expedition.
Having exchanged gretings and partaken of a hasty
breakfast we remounted our sledge.

The sheltering hills of Vladivostok were now left far
behind, and the difference in temperature became very
perceptible. The thermometer fell for the first time below
zero. The interior of our sledge hood became white with
hoar-frost, and every heavy jolt brought down on our
heads a miniature snowfall; two long icicles suspended
themselves from my companion’s moustache, and effected
a junction with the collar of his shuba, while the long hair
of the horses became covered with frozen perspiration.
No difficulty was now experienced in obtaining horses, and,
waiting just long enough at each station to exchange our
tired beasts for fresh ones, and twice to snatch hasty
meals, we pushed on for the Khanka Lake. Through a
pretty country, constantly ascending and descending steep
hills, we glided along, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, the
speed varying in direct proportion to the energy of the
KAMEN RUIBOLOFF 89

yemshik and the strength of his lungs. From the cliffs
above, the little rising town of Nikolsk, lying in a beautiful
valley, presented a pretty picture, with signs of cultivation
peeping through the snow in the fields around; and each
post-station was generally the centre of a little village of
log huts.

Towards three o’clock on the following morning we
approached the village of Kamen Ruiboloff, or the Fisher-
man’s Stone—a military station and port on the south
coast of the Khanka Lake. Had we chosen the summer
for our trip we should now have had nothing more fatiguing
before us for two thousand miles than a steamboat
journey ; but nevertheless all the disadvantages were not
on our side. Siberian river steamers have not gained the
reputation of being the most comfortable in the world; and
at least in our sledge we were free from mosquitoes and
other pests of summer travelling. The nights were now
moonless; but the starlight reflected upwards from the
snowy landscape afforded us quite sufficient illumination
for comfortable travelling. And, indeed, throughout the
whole of our journey, even when for days the sky was
overcast with thick snow-clouds, we never once experienced
darkness dense enough of itself to render travelling un-
comfortable or dangerous. Two or three times, it is true, °
we were warned against undertaking certain passages by
night, but these were spots in which, even in broad day-
light, one’s sense of security was not very strong.

On entering the travellers’ room in the post-house
of Kamen Ruiboloff we found it crowded with sleeping

10
go VLADIVOSTOK TO KHABAROVKA

voyagers, among whom we recognised several acquaintances
of Vladivostok. Reclining on the only two wooden benches,
were our friend the Ispravnik and an elderly Russian
officer; while lying about the floor in all directions were
other sleeping forms, among whom were a young Austrian
who had left the seaport to seek his fortune in. Irkutsk,
and the gentlemanly cattle-lifter. The Ispravnik rose as
soon as we entered, and although he offered us a courteous
welcome he did not look particularly pleased to see us.
Presently from a recess divided off from the main room by
the huge Russian stove, emerged a young army doctor and
his newly married wife, travelling together to Mikhaelo-
Seminovska, a military station on the Amur River.

We learnt that the whole party occupied four sledges,
and as there were just four troikas at the station, it would
be necessary for us to remain until these horses had
accomplished a journey of twenty-one miles, returned, and
rested sufficiently to undertake another trip. We were
rather rejoiced at this misfortune. Forty-two hours’
travelling without any sleep beyond an occasional five
minutes’ nap, had rendered the prospect of an enforced
rest far from unpleasing. Slowly the large party refreshed
themselves and prepared sulkily to resume their journey.
Had they not claimed the horses they knew one team
would be taken by us, and although it was evident that
they would have preferred to complete their night’s rest
before proceeding, they had to be up and off. By five
o'clock the four sledges had driven away, and we were
left in undisturbed possession of the station.
KHANKA LAKE gl

The hardness of our couches did not prevent our sleeping
soundly, and day was pretty far advanced when we were
awoke by a company of soldiers marching past the station
and singing a chorus. The village itself, with its log huts,
offered but little to attract the traveller, and, having ordered
a dinner of roast goose, we occupied the intervening time
in rearranging our sledge with a view to enhancing its
comfort. At noon the spirit thermometer, carefully fastened
in the felt hood of the sledge, recorded but two or three
degrees of frost, though the great sheet of ice, stretching
away to the horizon, told of much severer weather in the
nights of the early winter.

At length at four o’clock in the afternoon three tired
horses were harnessed to our sledge, and we were soon
scudding over the ice. We appeared to be in a new world.
The low-lying land on the banks of the lake was soon
scarcely visible. All around stretched a vast expanse of
snow-covered ice, with here and there patches swept bare
by the wind, looking like green bottle-glass as the horses’
hoofs clattered over it. A violent purga, which had
occurred while the water was but freshly frozen, had
produced some grand effects, piling the ice into long hilly
ranges rising twenty or more feet above the level of the
lake, with huge glassy jagged masses jutting out through
the thick snow which had since fallen. The sledge-track,
marked out on either side by branches of trees stuck in the

-snow at distances of a few feet, could be seen winding away
for many miles ahead.

But apart from these occasional patches the surface of
92 VLADIVOSTOK TO KHABAROVKA

the lake by no means presented the glassy smoothness of a
frozen English pond; and the pace of the tired horses

 

became miserably
1 slow. Although
Wt Ny nominally the dis-
tance from Kamen
Ruiboloff to the next
} station was twenty
SF miles, the ridges
“=~ WNg] piled up by the
storm had neces-
WSK sitated the making
Roof long détours in
TS] the track, which
considerably aug-
mented the dis-
tance; and nearly
four hours elapsed
before we again ap-

 

proached the shores
of the lake in the
direction of a lonely
house. In front of

 
        
 
 
 
 

I
a

W
i vy this station were two

o

| AY
Wr \ ~ down sledges. From

the shores of the lake the land stretched away to the
horizon perfectly flat with never a tree, and, apart from
the one house, with no sign of human habitation; the

 

or three broken-
A DESOLATE SCENE 93

whole scene conveying a sense of indescribable desola-
tion.

We were received by a small boy, who told us that the
station-master was away, and that there would be no
horses till the morrow. At first we imagined that this
youngster was for the time being the sole inhabitant of the
district ; but presently there emerged from the yemshiks’

 

= ee

room two or three sledge-drivers with faces so badly scarred
that in our ignorance we came to the conclusion that they
had been relieving the monotony of existence by a free
fight. Subsequently we discovered that these marks were
caused by frost-bite. Sitting for hours on the box, driving
in the cold wind night and day, and occasionally impeding
their circulation by falling asleep in the keen wind, very
few of the yemshiks get through the winter without losing
94 VLADIVOSTOK TO KHABAROVKA

‘the skin of their noses and cheeks. In the colder parts of
our journey we scarcely saw one driver whose face was not
‘covered either with scabs or with patches of pink new skin
which showed where the frost-bitten cuticle had peeled
away. However, these slight cases of frost-bite are, as I
was to learn by experience, more disfiguring than painful,
and Siberian yemshiks pay but little regard to them.

Formerly the route lay along the western shores of the
lake, and the stations now used on the eastern coast are
of a better class than the older buildings. The travellers’
room at Lifu, the first station, is quite a spacious, lofty
apartment, furnished with a few Vienna bent-wood chairs ;
but no fire had been burning in the great stove for some
hours, and we found our resting-place for the night de-
sperately cold and cheerless. And a meal of half-frozen
bread and canned meats hardly served to enliven our spirits.
The station-master, or starosta as he is usually termed by
courtesy—the title implying the head man of a village
—had, like most of his class in Eastern Siberia, dis-
played his loyalty by decorating the walls of his guest-room
with lithographic portraits—for the most part libellous
caricatures of the Tsar and the Imperial family. We
counted as many as sixteen portraits of his Majesty alone.
Here he was represented in his coronation robes; there at
his wedding ceremony; yet again amicably joining hands
-with the Emperors of Germany and Austria; then in the
bosom of his family, on horseback, reviewing his army,
driving in an open carriage, and under a dozen other con-
- ditions of daily life.
HE HAD NEVER HEARD OF LONDON 95

Shortly after nightfall a little caravan of Russian emi-
grants halted on the shore of the lake in front of the
station, and were soon crouching round fires cooking their
evening meal. In their dirty sheepskin clothes, with un-
kempt hair, and faces long innocent of soap and water,
they looked a forbidding lot, though doubtless they were
harmless enough. We felt uncertain, however, about leav-
ing all our worldly goods at their mercy while we slept
within the building, and it was agreed that one should
spend the night in the sledge and one in the house.

At nine the next morning horses were announced, and
we entered on another long slow drive over the lake. Our
Russian friends, including the Ispravnik who had promised
us that under his protection we should ‘ fly’ to Khabarovka,
were travelling by easy stages and leaving us to follow from
every station with their tired horses. A drive of five-and-
twenty miles brought us to Santakhesa; but the place
designated by this high-sounding name proved, like Lifu, to
consist of a single house—the post-station. The old story
of ‘no horses till the morrow’ was repeated; but we found
ourselves in more comfortable quarters. Some of the yem-
shiks appeared to be married men, and in the evening quite
a large party of men and girls were dancing to the music
of some stringed instrument.

The station-master, too, paid us a visit, accepted an in-
vitation to tea, and showed himself extremely curious to
know what two foreigners, with but a rudimentary knowledge
of the Russian language, could possibly want in Siberia.
Our podorozhnayas were taken for Blagovestchensk. Were
96 VLADIVOSTOK TO KHABAROVKA

we going to remain there? No, we were going farther.
Irkutsk? Farther. Tomsk? Farther. At each new an-
swer our guest opened his eyes still wider. ‘ Petersburg?’
‘Farther; London.’ ‘Ah! Ni znai.’? He knew Petersburg,
but he had never heard of London. No travellers who had
put up at his station had ever been bound for such a place.

Early in the afternoon of the following day we hailed
with delight the end of our long lake journey. At first the
marvels of the scene, the piled-up masses of ice with jagged
edges glittering in the bright sunlight, and the novel sensa-
tion of gliding over the surface of a vast expanse of water,
almost out of sight of land, had been interesting enough ;
but by the third day the novelty had worn off, and there
was something exasperating in the knowledge: that, at the
rate of speed we were making, it would take something over
twelve months to land us in Europe.

Nearing the end of a stage of close upon thirty miles,
we were surprised to come upon a pool of open water,
and upon approaching it we found it was formed by the
current of the River Sungacha, which had proved too swift
for the winter yet to fully overcome. A little group of
Manchurian huts on the opposite bank of the river re-
minded us tha‘ we were now on the border-line of the two
great empires of Russia and China, and that in two
minutes we could return to the land which we had left two
months before. For the next 1,600 miles our journey lay
along the border line of these two empires; for not until
we reached the little town of Ust Strilka, situated just at
the spot where the rivers Argun and Shilka combine their
THE SIBERIAN MAILS 97

forces to form the great Amur, should we turn our backs
on China.

Just where the waters of Lake Khanka empty them-
selves into the Sungacha River, to find their way to the
ocean by way of the Ussuri and the Amur, a little Russian
village has grown up; and as we drew up at the post-
station in this village after a drive of nearly thirty miles, a
scene of unusual bustle and activity lay before us. Yem-
shiks and station-master were busily engaged in harnessing
horses to four large open sledges, and loading these vehicles
with huge heavy leathern bags fastened with chains. These
proved to be the mail-bags bringing letters and parcels to
Vladivostok from Europe and Western Siberia.

Within the station the postman and a young soldier,
whose uniform with yellow facings and broad yellow bands
down the sides of the trousers proclaimed him to be a
Cossack officer, were getting their midday meal. Soon
they took their places in one of the sledges, and the caval-
cade prepared to start. The horses were fresh, spirited
animals, and before the men had fairly taken their seats
one team dashed off, and the station-master, who was
attempting to hold them, was rolled over in the snow,
narrowly escaping a parting kick from the retreating hoofs.
As soon as the man had pulled himself together, we
presented ourselves to him with a polite request for horses.
The station-master’s reply was anything but polite. He
had evidently been indulging in a good many nips of vodka
during the morning; and the roll in the snow had not
sweetened his temper. Horses! of course there were no
98 VLADIVOSTOK TO KHABAROVKA

horses; but when we intimated that we were willing to
pay high rates for private horses rather than not proceed,
the fellow’s effusiveness became even more embarrassing
than his ill-temper. He was not a man of prepossessing
appearance. Siberian villagers are not as a rule lavish
in the matter of soap and water, and this man was no
exception. His facewas decorated with a shaggy, unkempt,
dirty beard, reeking with stale vodka; and my companion,
who was conducting the negotiations, viewed with evident
alarm a desire on the part of the station-master to seal .
the bargain with a chaste salute. It takes a deal of travel
in foreign climes to make an Englishman take kindly to
the custom of kissing between man and man—a custom
which is very general in Russia.

Our course now lay for some distance along the banks
of the Sungacha, occasionally crossing from loop to loop of
the serpentine river over tracks marked in the wide plain,
like those on the lakes, with small branches of trees to
which the dead leaves stillclung. These track marks extend
at intervals along the whole route through Northern Asia,
on all rivers, lakes, and plains—wherever, in fact, there is
the slightest fear that a snowstorm may obliterate the
track and cause danger or inconvenience to the traveller.
Every year several hundreds of thousands of these branches
have to be set up anew; and if the reader considers the
amount of labour this alone entails, he will be able to form
some idea from this one little fact in connection with the
Siberian postal service, how vast an undertaking it is that
the Russian Government have to maintain in order to
DOW THE USSURI 99

keep up communication with their eastern shores. We
were told, and could readily believe, that the low. tariff
charged for posting and the rates for letter carriage did
not nearly cover the cost of the elaborate and, on the whole,
admirable system, which enables the traveller at a minimum
of trouble and cost to cover the ground at a speed perhaps
unknown with horses in any other part of the world.

At night we were once more stopped for want of horses.
Though we were still far enough from civilisation to have
little fear of thieves, we judged it inadvisable to leave our
sledge in the open street all night unguarded, and still we
continued by turns to perform a night of sentinel duty by
sleeping in the sledge, though the thermometer now fell in
the early morning as low as twenty degrees below zero
Fahrenheit.

Next day we reached the mouth of the Sungacha, and
were soon scudding along the ice on the Ussuri, a broad
river flowing through some beautiful country. Our troubles
were for a time at an end, and we experienced the perfection
of Siberian winter travel. The smooth ice of the river,
covered only with a thin layer of snow, formed an exccllent
track for our sledge ; and occasionally the monotony of the
travelling between the low banks was relieved by a short
cut across country—up hill and down dale, through thick
woods and over plains. For nearly four hundred miles
we travelled day and night, only remaining long enough at
each station for the harnessing of fresh horses, or to thaw
out our provisions and partake of a hasty meal, or refresh
ourselves with tumbler after tumbler of hot tea. In forty-
100° VLADIVOSTOK TO KHABAROVKA,

eight hours we covered a distance of over 290 miles—a
record which we were never able to beat until we came to
the great steppe between Tomsk and the Urals, where we
succeeded for some days in keeping up an average of nearly
160 miles in twenty-four hours. Many travellers boast of
having kept up for a week at a time an average of 200
miles a day; and certainly in Western Siberia, where one
is never delayed for lack of horses, there is nothing
impossible in such a record being made by an ordinary
traveller, and even greatly exceeded by a courier; but for
our parts we were not ambitious enough to sacrifice all
comfort for the purpose of attempting to beat the record in
the matter of speed.

The post-stations along the Ussuri were for the most
part much more primitive than those to which we had
become accustomed. In some cases the travellers’ room
was divided off from the sleeping and dwelling apartment
of the station-master and his family merely by a loose,
hanging curtain, from behind which crowds of little boys
and girls would peer at us as we drank our tea. For
nearly every station-master appeared to be blessed with a
large family; and as a rule boys and girls, mother and
father, appeared to occupy a single room, a second apart-
ment being devoted to the use of all the drivers and their
families. For the life of an Eastern Siberian yemshik or
station-master, which may perhaps be taken as a fair type of
the life of the lower class—i.e. the great bulk—of Siberians,
appears to allow of no room for comfort, and but little for
decency. Passing at night through the family quarters to
POST-STATIONS IOI

.

the guest-room, as we frequently had to do, we often found
the whole bedless floor covered with the slumbering forms of
men, women, and children, the latter very scantily clothed,
as, despite the cold without, the huge stove raises the
temperature to the verge of suffocation. The sanitary
arrangements of the houses, too, defy description. In
winter the severe frost is, of course, an excellent temporary
purifier; but the fact that infectious diseases frequently
prevail in the summer is not difficult to understand.

A few years ago a Siberian post-station was a by-word
in Russia for dirt, parasites of all descriptions, and general
discomfort. Lately, however, great changes for the better
have been effected; and from a recent amalgamation of the
postal, telegraph, and post-horse services under a single
department, still further improvements are expected. For-
merly travellers had occasionally to share their accommo-
dation with cattle and horses; but now at every station at
least one room is reserved for their exclusive use, and
periodical inspections are made for the purpose of insuring
that the Government regulations for the comfort and quick
transport of passengers are duly observed. In the newly
erected stations the guest-rooms are quite spacious and
lofty, and in many instances they are furnished with little
luxuries in the shape of antimacassars and simple art
decorations which one would hardly expect to find in the
desolate regions of Northern Asia.

Here, however, on the Ussuri, the stations were among
the worst we encountered. More than once, after arriving
hungry and tired, we were driven back to our sledge by the

11
102 VLADIVOSTOK TO KHABAROVKA

impossibility of taking a meal in the fetid atmosphere of the
guest-room curtained off from the family bedroom; and at
other stations the overpowering heat to which the tempera-
ture had been raised by the enormous stove rendered us
only a few degrees less uncomfortable.

Soon after nightfall on Christmas Eve we arrived at
the little village of Kazakevitch, twenty-six miles south of
Khabarovka. We learnt that the Ispravnik and his party
had only just started away, while as for the young doctor
and his bride we had already left them far behind. There
were no horses for us until the morrow, and our hopes of
an entire day’s rest on Christmas Day were therefore dis-
appointed. Finding there was a telegraph-station in the
village, we decided to take advantage of the opportunity to
wire homewards and make known our whereabouts at the
festive Christmas season ; and, guided by the starosta, who
lighted the way with a lantern, I trudged through the snow
to the telegraph office at the farther end of the village.
Although the evening was yet young, everybody was in bed,
and it was only after belabouring the door for a good ten
minutes that we obtained admittance. I handed in my
message, written plainly in English ; but the officer politely
signified that he understood no language but his own, and
that it was contrary to regulations for him to accept a
telegram the purport of which he did not understand. I
returned to the post-station, and soon afterwards, it being
my turn for sentry duty, composed myself comfortably to
sleep in the sledge. At two in the morning I woke shiver-
ing under my furs. A fierce cold wind was blowing through
KHABAROVKA 103

the sledge, and the Siberian traveller soon learns that in a
frosty climate it is the wind that tells. During the preva-
lence of the greatest cold the air is, asa rule, absolutely
still, and one can then travel far more comfortably than
when facing a steady breeze with the thermometer twenty,
thirty, or even forty degrees higher.

At about noon on Christmas Day we reached the mouth
of the Ussuri, and the great Amur opened out before us.
Immediately in front of us, where the cliff rose high above
the water, on the opposite bank of the Amur, stood
Khabarovka, the capital of the Primorsk or Maritime Pro-
vince, and the military headquarters of Eastern Siberia. A
few minutes later our bells were silenced, and we dashed up
the steep bank and drew up in the courtyard of the
Khabarovia Hotel.
CHAPTER VII

KHABAROVKA TO BLAGOVESTCHENSK

The capital of the Primorsk—A miserable hotel—A Christmas dinner
—Shtchee and cutlets—Beware of officials—Driving tandem—The
Amur river—A dreary steppe—A midnight collision—Thirty-six
hours through falling snow—Radde—A pleasant meeting—The
family sledge—Racing on the road—A long cold drive by night—A
frosty supper and an altercation—No snow—A station-master takes
a fancy to our sledge—An encounter and a victory—We proceed
with five horses—The battle renewed—Another victory anda rough
ride—A drive in a tarantas and a frozen nose—Entry into Blago-
vestchensk.

THoven named after a Cossack general who led a small

army of adventure from Europe to the Amur in the middle

of the seventeenth century, Khabarovka has been in exist-
ence scarcely thirty years, and numbers at the present time
probably less than three thousand inhabitants. It is a well-
chosen site for the head-quarters of the Maritime Province,
being situated just about halfway between the two sea-
ports of Nikolaevsk and Vladivostok, and in summer being
easily accessible from either. To the traveller, however, it
offers but few attractions. Its one hotel was, perhaps with

a single exception, the most uncomfortable and the worst

provided of any at which we put up during the whole of our

travels. The scale of charges, it is true, was not very high,
SHTCHEE AND CUTLETS 105

but the accommodation provided would have been dear at
any price. The only room which we could procure opened
by swing-doors, which did not meet, upon a little billiard-
room. Its furniture consisted of one wooden couch-bed-
stead, a small table, and two or three chairs. With wash-
ing accommodation it was entirely unprovided, and it was
with considerable difficulty that we obtained temporary
possession of a basin and jug containing considerably more
ice than water. For eight days we had not undressed, and
these were all the appliances we could get for a bath.
However, we removed the stains of travel as well as the
means at our disposal would allow, and proceeded to the
dining saloon to eat our Christmas dinner.

The Russian Christmas is of course twelve days later
than the English, and therefore, having no expectation of
finding a seasonable feast provided, we were not disappointed
when the dinner proved to consist of shtchee, or cabbage
soup, and a greasy kind of rissoles always known in Russia
—or at least in Siberia—for some inscrutable reason, as
‘cutlets.’ The Russians are good hands at soups, and even
among the poorest classes a dinner is not considered com-
plete without it. Shtchee is excellent when properly made ;
but when one has been living five weeks in an hotel, where
shtchee is served either for lunch or dinner at least ten times
in each week, even cabbage soup may become monotonous,
while no one who has tasted a ‘cutlet,’ as served in a
Siberian hotel, will be likely to havker after a repetition of
the feast. It was our sad experience, however, that when-
ever we reached a small Siberian town and congratulated
106 KHABAROVKA TO BLAGOVESTCHENSK

ourselves on the possibility of obtaining a change from the
rough and ready fare of the road, ‘shtchee and cutlets’
always formed the bill of fare.

We soon discovered that an adjoining room to our own
was occupied by our friend the Ispravnik, the ex-officer
convict, and the young Austrian. But after exchanging
greetings we left the Ispravnik to his own devices, and did
not remind him of his promise to introduce us to the
Governor-General. Hight days of Siberian travel had been
sufficient to convince us that we were quite able to make
our way from one end of Russia to the other without
official aid or protection of any kind whatever beyond that
which our papers entitled us to demand. The Ispravunik’s
‘assistance’ had thus far consisted in persistently getting
in our road and clearing every station of horses, so that a
journey which has often been covered in four days had
taken us more than eight to accomplish. We decided that
in future we would rely upon ourselves, and have nothing
to do with officials if we could help it; and to the end of
our journey we never saw any cause to regret our decision.

In the afternoon we strolled through the broad streets
of the town, flanked by wooden houses, and examined its
one striking building-—a large Greek church of the Byzan-
tine order, commonly adopted in ecclesiastical architecture
throughout the whole of Siberia and the greater part of
European Russia. From pinnacles to base the church had
been painted in the most glaring tones of green and red
and ultramarine, and though the effect was anything but
artistic it was certainly very dazzling. At the telegraph
107

LEAVING KHABA

office we made the acquaintance of a young Teutonic

Russian telegraphist

 

 

 

 

told us that he would iy

himself

in

days be starting by

sled,

g.

ge for Petersbur

Nearly two months

>

k

later we met at Toms

d

whence we journeye

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of our next stage.

On sending in the morning to the post-station we were
108 KHABAROVKA TO BLAGOVESTCHENSK

informed that no horses were to be had until next day; but
on going ourselves to the station we found grave reason to
suspect that this was a ruse on the part of our hotel keeper
to obtain from us another day’s bill; and by four o'clock in

the afternoon we were slowly descending the steep cliff to the
river. Our three horses were now, for the first and only time,

        
     

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harnessed tandem, and so loose was the system of coupling
that our equipage wound away before us like a circus
procession. Nevertheless, with a dexterous jerk of the
whip, the yemshik sent the long lash curling about the
ears of the leader, and we were soon rattling and jolting
over the rough ice, and picking our way between jagged

 
A ROUGH ROAD 109

masses raised by the turgid waters at the meeting of the
two rivers. The setting sun, shining full in our eyes, re-
minded us that we had at last begun to make headway;
for the first six hundred miles of our journey had been a
mere beating up into the course, and at Khabarovka we
were considerably more to the eastward than when we
started.

For mile after mile the surface of the Amur presented
the appearance of a gigantic chevaux de frise, masses of
jagged ice sticking up everywhere, as though after the first
frost the icy surface had been broken up into thousands of
fragments, which had afterwards become roughly welded
together by succeeding frosts. We were glad when at
length we ran up the bank and travelled for some distance
on land. Somewhere about midnight, as we were lying
back on our mattress and comfortably dozing, we suddenly
felt a heavy shock, and heard the horses plunging violently.
On looking up we found that the driver, who had probably
fallen asleep on the box, had driven off the road, and had
brought the sledge smartly into collision with the trunk of
a tree. One poor horse was jammed so tightly in between
the sledge and the tree that we feared he must be badly
injured ; but after leaving our bed and helping the yemshik
to pull the vehicle back into the road, we found that no
serious damage was done.

For the next two days our route lay principally across
a vast plain on the northern bank of the Amur. Some
stunted trees, still covered with decayed leaves, and the
long line of telegraph poles which marked the posting road,
110 KHABAROVKA TO BLAGOVESTCHENSK

alone relieved the dreary monotony of the vast white plain.

 

 

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Travellers were
few, and almost
the only living
creatures we met
between the sta-
tions were a herd
of fine horned
cattle and their
drivers. On the
second day the sky
clouded over, and
for thirty-six hours
we continued to
travel amidst
thickly falling
snow. The cold
was, however, too
great to allow the
flakes to melt, ex-
cept where they
actually fell on the
face, and although
sledge, mattress,
and rugs were half
buried in the cold
white fleece, the
discomfort was not

so great as might be imagined. Our sledge was provided
THIRTY-SIX HOURS’ SNOW Ill

with a felt curtain which could be drawn over the open
front in snowy weather ; but this of course entirely excluded
the view ; and we put up with the snow rather than travel
day after day seeing nothing of the country through which
we were passing. When at last the snow ceased the tem-
perature slowly began to fall. Horses never failed us.
Day and night we pushed on, stopping but twice a day to
thaw out and eat our frozen bread and meat, or to drink a
bowl of cabbage soup, prepared by the station-master’s
wife for her husband and family; and once or twice more
to warm our blood with tumblers of overland tea or a jar
of rich milk with a slice or two of black bread.

On the third day we entered the little village of Radde,
and a Russian in the uniform of a telegraph officer accosted
us and asked us to deliver a letter at a village a hundred
versts or so away, towards which we were proceeding. To
our delight we presently discovered that he knew something
of English, having spent some months iu Vladivostok. He
told us that the last English traveller whom he had en-
countered was Dr. Henry. Lansdell, in whose company he
had journeyed to Nikolaevsk in the summer of 1879.
From Dr. Lansdell I had been fortunate enough to obtain a
letter recommending me to all the friends whom he made
during his travels in Asiatic Russia ; and on my presenting
this letter to the officer he expressed himself delighted to
hear news of one of whom he entertained pleasant recollec-
tions. The unexpected meeting formed a pleasing incident
in the journey through this sparsely inhabited district ; and
it was resolved, at the officer’s suggestion, to celebrate the
112 KHABAROVKA TO BLAGOVESTCHENSK

occasion with a bottle of vodka. The liquor produced by the
station-master unfortunately proved distasteful to English
palates; but we found the yemshiks took to it very kindly,
and as under its influence they usually urged their horses
to an extra degree of speed, the money proved well
invested.
At daylight on the following morning we reached a
- little village called Skobelitsina, and on drawing up at the
post-station we observed standing in the yard an enormous
vashok, or closed sledge, looking like a great funeral car
placed upon runners. On entering the station we came
upon the family who were travelling in this sledge. They
consisted of a Russian military officer, his wife, and three
little girls, the eldest of whom could not have numbered
more than seven or eight years. They had evidently been
sleeping all night in the station, and were now getting
their breakfast. We ourselves felt hungry, but the station
was small, and the officer, his family, and his baggage
pretty well filled every corner. We accordingly ordered
horses at once, and rattled away to the next station. As
snow had fallen very sparsely on the sandy road, travelling
was neither quick nor easy, and we were at a loss to know
how the officer’s huge, heavily laden omnibus could make
its way over the ground at all. A two hours’ drive brought
us to the end of the stage, and, having ordered the starosta
to bring us anything he had in the way of eatables, we
were regaling ourselves on half-thawed milk and a-large
game-bird of some unknown species which proved excellent
eating, when the great vashok came lumbering into the
A HEAVY SLEDGE 113

yard, with five horses attached, and an extra yemshik
riding as postillion on one of the two leaders. We were
dismayed. It had never struck us till now that this family
might be travelling in the same direction as ourselves. It
was a serious matter. Only nine horses were kept at every
station, and as this officer, who of course had a Crown
podorozhnayaand could claim precedence of us, would always
require five or six, a single posting-sledge meeting us from
Blagovestchensk would leave us in the lurch, and we should
experience anew the pleasures of which we had had a sur-
feit on the Khanka Lake.

Before we had finished breakfast the vashok, with five
fresh horses attached, was away in the direction of Blago-
vestchensk. Fortunately for us there was still a team of
horses not in use; and half an hour later we were galloping
after, our yemshik spurred on to extra exerticn by a promise
of double drink-money. Handicapped as we were, having
only a private against a Crown podorozhnaya, and no military
uniform to awe yemshiks and station-masters into obedient
alacrity in producing and harnessing horses, we entered with
zest into one of the greatest pleasures of Siberian sledging—
racing on the road. We knew that with a wife anda family
of little children it was scarcely possible that our rival could
travel night and day, and we determined if possible to catch
him by nightfall and leave him before the morning fifty
or sixty miles behind.

Fortunately for us we met not a single traveller during
the whole day, or we must necessarily have been delayed at
some village station for several hours. Never stopping to

12
114 KHABAROVKA TO BLAGOVESTCHENSK

éat or drink, we travelled on till by dusk just fifty miles
had been covered since our late breakfast. Sometimes
on nearing a post-station we would meet the officer’s tive
horses returning homewards, under charge of two yemshiks ;
at other times we would come upon them taking their brief
rest in the station-yard before returning, their shaggy
coats glistening white with frozen perspiration. We never
actually lost ground, but with all our efforts we found it
impossible to materially reduce the half-hour’s start which
had been obtained while we were at breakfast.

It was about seven o'clock in the evening when we
reached the end of the fifth stage and rattled into the station-
yard at the smart gallop with which a yemshik always likes to
finish his journey. Turning the corner sharply into the yard
he brought the front of the sledge with a crash against the
gate-post, and smashed in two a stout pole to which the
near horse was harnessed. The first object which met our
eyes in the yard was the vashok. Having surveyed the
damage to our sledge and ascertained that it could be
temporarily repaired with rope, we entered the station and
found the Russian officer and his family encamped in the
little guest-room for the night. We did not feel inclined
to insist on our right to share the limited accommodation,
even while taking our evening meal; and, defying hunger
and cold, we settled ourselves down for another seventeen
miles’ drive in the cheerless night. It taught us a lesson
which we were in no hurry to repeat. We learnt by painful
experience that the only way to travel in Siberia with
comfort in winter is to constantly replenish one's supply of
FROZEN RABCHIKS 115

calorie with food and hot tea. We were now making a
short cut across a bend of the river, and over the rough
road the snow lay in so thin a layer that our progress was
painfully slow. The thermometer stood more than twenty
degrees below zero, and the cold penetrated through all our
furs. It was the most wearisome and uncomfortable drive
we had yet experienced; and the prospect of grave diffi-
culties in store for us did not tend to cheer our spirits. We
had been warned after leaving Khabarovka that on nearing
Blagovestchensk we should probably experience serious
difficulty in going forward in our sledge, owing to the
absence of snow; and there seemed every prospect of this
foreboding being realised.

The evening was far advanced when we came to a halt
at the next post-station. From our bag of frozen provisions
we selected a chicken and a rabchik—a very palatable
species of partridge found in Siberia—and gave them out
with a loaf of bread to be thawed. The stove, however, was
nearly cold, and a considerable time elapsed before the food
was brought to us in a half-thawed condition—lukewarm
without and solid ice within. But the feast was well
seasoned with the sauce of hunger, and we had already
made a considerable impression on the half-frozen meat
when the station-master entered and requested to be made
acquainted with our plans.

We mildly suggested that we should like three horses
harnessed to the sledge at once, so that we might continue
our journey as soon as we had finished our supper. The
starosta immediately entered into a vigorous and voluble
116 KHABAROVKA TO BLAGOVESTCHENSK

declaration ; but our knowledge of the Russian language
was principally confined to a number of sentences suitable
for travellers which we had mastered in Vladivostok, and
the oration was utterly lost on us, except in so far as we
understood that our suggestion did not meet with approval.
Gradually we gathered that it was impossible that our sledge
should proceed any farther. No snow had fallen, or at
most it was spread so thin that the foot when lifted left a
bare print upon the ground. What were we todo? The
postmaster had a tarantas—a wheeled vehicle—in which
we could proceed ; and as for the sledge, we could leave that
behind. He would buy it of us if we liked; he was willing
to give three roubles for it.

But the sledge had cost us seventy roubles, and on the
other side of Blagovestchensk—only some forty or fifty
miles away—we should certainly require it again. No
doubt the advice was highly disinterested, but we preferred
to take our sledge with us. There was the Amur. Could
we not go round by the river on the ice? That was
possible; but the nearest point of the river was ten miles
away, and the Amur made a great bend here, so that the
distance would be much greater than by land. The regular
post-road, too, cut across the bend, and there were no
post-stations on the river at which we could change horses
or get a meal. He was not bound by the Government
regulations to take travellers that way; but he would under-
take to land us in Blagovestchensk for thirty roubles.
Subsequently he reduced the price to twenty roubles; but
even then the prospect was not sufficiently tempting. The
A GAME OF BLUFF 117

tariff rate for three horses to Blagovestchensk would amount
only to between five and six roubles; and most Russian
travellers, though they obtained three horses, only paid for
two. We insisted on proceeding by road. The starosta
became excited, and invited a friend in to support him in
his endeavour to convince us that it was impossible to pro-
ceed farther in our sledge.

 

 

   

 

 

 

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he ~ Ad WE ieceep: ave ad s Ewe . Phd lot
eee bare 30 Roubles a Brive us by Somt rvad Kar-he eee mothe ebouts tt

 

 

But we had laid to heart the lessons we had taken in
the art of dealing with Russian station-masters. The more
excited he became, the cooler we were. It was his business
to transport us from his station to the next, and we declined
to pay more than the tariff rate, or to leave our sledge
behind. In our own minds we were very doubtful whether
the Government regulations would compel him to transport
118 KHABAROVKA TO BLAGOVESTCHENSK

a heavy sledge over a snowless road; but diplomatically
we kept this doubt to ourselves. We were in no hurry.
We lighted our cigars and settled down to a comfortable
smoke after dinner; we had found that in the extreme cold
it is impossible to smoke with any degree of comfort out of
doors. By-and-by we obtained an unexpected ally in the
person of the starosta’s wife. She was evidently interested
in the fate of the unfortunate strangers in a foreign land,

and while her husband and _ his

friend were debating in a corner

  

declaring iY == as to what modified
Mok with, less MMO ;

Kan Shorea WED terms they should offer,
Ac canf> (sett aa she approached us and

a a pea aN YZ 3{ whispered that all would

; A come right and we should
get our horses. Her
whisper of hope was ful-
filled. Eventually the
station-master admitted
that it might be possible
to proceed by road with

 

 

 

extra horses, and he agreed to give us five on payment of
the tariff rate for four.

In half an hour we were careering over the hard road
with five horses all harnessed side by side in front of the
sledge. The yemshik, wrapped up till he looked like a
great round ball of deer and sheep skins, seemed elated at
the prospect of driving such a team. With shrill screams
and yells he vigorously plied the whip till the horses sped
A RATTLING RIDE 119

along at a furious gallop, the poor old sledge creaking and
groaning as it rattled and bumped over frozen cart-rucks,
boulders, and deep pits in the road. It was an exciting
and exhilarating ride; but we were not sorry when it was
over.

At the next station the old trouble was repeated, and
as we were embarrassed in our negotiations by the assist-

 

 

 

 

 

ance of two Russian officers who were travelling in the
opposite direction, we were unable to strike quite so good
.a bargain. However, we ultimately obtained four horses
at tariff rate, and proceeded by road. The track was now
entirely denuded of snow, and even with four horses it was
with difficulty that we made any progress. The rickety
sledge groaned and rattled more than ever. Our spirit
120 KHABAROVKA TO BLAGOVESTCHENSK

thermometer, though fastened carefully to the softest part’
of the felt lining of the hood, was shivered into fragments,
and its contents were scattered in our faces; momentarily
we ascertained the location of fresh bones in our bodies,
and all thoughts of sleep were banished.

At length, when at daylight we arrived at the last
station before Blagovestchensk, sleepless and sore of body,
we had determined to yield to circumstances. We had
proved that it was possible to sledge over a rough, snowless
road ; but we had also satis-
fied ourselves that it was too
violent a form of exercise
to be indulged in with im-

 

-punity. Transferring our-
selves and our baggage to an
open waggon, we rattled over
the last eighteen miles of
bleak plain, our sledge fol-
lowing empty behind us. A
keen wind blew straight into our unprotected faces; but,

 

 

 

wearied by the rough restless night, I closed my eyes in
sleep, and the frost seized this favourable opportunity to
settle upon my nose. The result, though extremely unbe-
coming, was not painful. In a few days the slight frost-
bite had disappeared ; but it left the most exposed part of
my face peculiarly susceptible to cold for the rest of the
journey.

A very few miles of travelling in the rough, springless
waggon was sufficient to convince us that whatever might
TRAVELLING BY TARANTAS

be the drawbacks
of sledging, those
of travelling by
tarantas — espe-
cially in winter,
when the roads
are frozen hard
—are infinitely
greater; and it
was with a deep
sense of relief and
satisfaction that
after nearly three
hours of intense
discomfort we de-
scended from the
dreary, almost
treeless plateau,
and wound our
way across the
river Zea, one of
the largest tri-
butaries of the
Amur. Along
the opposite bank
three or four
small steamers
lay frozen in—a
signal of our ap-

 

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122 KHABAROVKA TO BLAGOVESTCHENSK

proach to civilisation to which we accorded a glad wel-
come. On ascending this bank we found ourselves at once
on the outskirts of the town; but we had still no little
distance to go. -One has to travel in Siberia in order to
obtain an idea of the extraordinary number of acres that
a town of three or four thousand inhabitants can be made
to cover when spread out thin. At length, however, we
drew up in the yard of Kosakovski’s hotel, and had soon
forgotten our troubles while eating a capital dinner in the
most comfortable hotel-room we had seen since leaving
Japan.
CHAPTER VIII

BLAGOVESTCHENSK

The City of Glad Tidings—A decent hotel—How Siberians wash—
Among friends—The pleasures of hospitality—A curious sledge
—Foreign testimony as to life in Siberia—A comfortable home
—Foreign merchants and German officials—A new postal adminis-
tration—A frozen market-—Effects of the cold—A royal gift—A
new podorozhnaya— Pairs and troikas—Molokans— Off up the Amur.

BuaGovEstcHENsK, the City of ‘Glad Tidings,’ is by far the
finest and the most pleasant city in Siberia eastward of the
Baikal Sea. Its northern side is washed by the Zea, and
its southern by the Amur; and if its present career of
growing prosperity continues unchecked, no doubt it will
before long extend eastward to the extreme point of the
narrow neck of land which divides the great river from its
tributary. Its fine broad streets, as we passed through
them in our tarantas, could not be said to present a busy
appearance; but a number of sledges of curious shape
were plying for hire, and among the pedestrians on busi-
ness intent were a number of Manchurians from Sakhalin
Ula-Hotun, or the ‘ City of the Black River,’ on the oppo-
site shore of the Amur. The houses were still all of wood,
but they were more ornate, and generally presented a more
prosperous appearance than those of Khabarovka, while
124 BLAGOVESTCHENSK

the domes of at least three churches, one of which had
some pretension to architectural beauty, were to be dis-
cerned in different parts of the town.

Our quarters at the hotel we found comfortable beyond
anticipation. The bedroom which we shared was, it is
true, neither lofty nor spacious; but it was provided with
two folding bedsteads of civilised manufacture, on which
we could hope to obtain the unaccustomed luxury of a good
night’s rest. There was no bath-room, it is true; nor was
the bedroom provided with anything in the way of a wash-
stand and accessories; but in the corner of a passage
outside was a patent washing-machine of a kind very
commonly adopted throughout Russia and Siberia, the use
of which we could share with the rest of the visitors at the
hotel. The Siberian never makes use of a basin or tub to
wash hands or face, or if he does he never uses it as a
civilised being would. He likes to wash under a thin stream
of trickling water, and if he has only the ordinary resources
of civilisation at his command he gets a servant to slowly
pour a few drops of water out of the jug while he washes
under the thin stream. He would probably think it uncleanly
to bring hands or face in contact with the soiled water
caught by the basin, though his notions on the subject
of cleanliness are by no means strict. His favourite con-
trivance is, however, a brass receptacle hung on the
wall, and coming to a point or nozzle at the bottom.
Through this nozzle the water can be made to trickle, and
under it the Russian performs his ablutions as well as the
circumstances will permit. Below, to catch the drippings,
SIBERIAN ABLUTIONS 125

a large brass pan is placed, and as this pan is sometimes
also used as a spittoon and a receptacle for cigarette-ends,
scraps of rejected food, and other refuse, washing in Siberia
is not an unalloyed luxury. I do not mean to say that
this description applies to private houses of the better
class; but it is a plain, unexaggerated description of the
state of things ablutionary in more than one hotel of some
pretensions which we visited during our journey. Baths
are never found in Siberian houses; but in every town of
any importance a public Russian vapour-bath has been
established ; and this is generally well patronised.

Having rendered ourselves as presentable as the cir-
cumstances permitted, and having refreshed ourselves with
a good hot dinner, we inquired our way to the telegraph
office, where we had hopes of meeting friends. To one
gentleman, Mr. Nielsen, we had between us three letters of
introduction, while to the wife of another, Mr. Paulsen,
we were bringing from a lady in Vladivostok a present
consisting of a little box of frozen oranges—a luxury some-
what difficult to procure in the interior of Siberia. When
sent by parcel-post, fruit is liable to undergo a course of
alternate freezing in sledges and thawing in post-stations
which is destructive of its best qualities. Frozen fruit has
to be thawed very gently, or it is spoilt. The usual plan is
to place it in water only removed a few degrees from the
freezing point, and to let it very gradually assimilate its
temperature to that of the water. We had taken good care
that our oranges should not thaw. They had been rattling

about in their box like little cannon-balls, and we hoped
13
126 BLAGOVESTCHENSK

they would form a pleasant letter of introduction. We
were not disappointed. If only a hundredth part of the
kindness we received from their recipients is due to those
oranges, we owe them a debt of gratitude which should
never be forgotten.

Our way to the telegraph station led along a fine broad
street overlooking the Amur River—‘The Bund,’ as it
would have been termed had Blagovestchensk been an
Anglo-Eastern city. Farther on, a public garden over-
shadowed by fine trees interposed itself between the road
and the river; and it was easy to imagine how pleasant a
spot this would be in the warm summer days. On the ice
of the river a smooth space had been swept clean for
skating, and at a little distance a capital katchuska, or
toboggan, had been erected; but just then both rink and
toboggan were deserted.

At the telegraph station we at once found ourselves among
friends, and in half an hour we were driving through the
streets of Blagovestchensk on a public conveyance of most
extraordinary shape. The body of the vehicle was formed
like the back of a broad horse; at right angles to it behind
was a seat large enough for about one person and a half;
but as the back of the dummy horse was on the same
level as the seat and joined up to it, it was very difficult
for anyone behind to find a place for his legs. However,
our party of three managed to find accommodation, one
sitting astritle the wooden horse-back, and the others be-
hind, with their legs dangling on either side, in imminent
danger of falling off every time the springless vehicle
BOUNDLESS HOSPITALITY 127

bumped over a stone or turned a corner. Who on earth
exercised his ingenuity in the invention of a vehicle so
utterly comfortless and inconvenient, and how he managed
to obtain its adoption into general use in the streets of the
town, are mysteries which we were unable to solve.

Our guide and companion, Mr. Nielsen, was enthusiastic
in his praises of the town which for ten years had been his
home. Even the pride of race which is so deep-seated in
the heart of every Dane seemed to be undermined by his
admiration for his new home, and he was rather proud than
otherwise to be called a Russian. Englishmen who have
been in the habit of regarding Siberia as a land of horrors,
unfit for human existence, peopled only by exiles and their
gaolers, may be a little incredulous when told that a gentle-
man accustomed to the civilisation of Western Europe
could prefer such a Jand to his own country. But this was
no isolated case. We came across even Englishmen who,
after a long residence in Siberia, found home life less
pleasing to them, and longed to return to the land of their
adoption.

Travellers in distant lands, in newly opened countries,
or among semi-barbarous nations, where ‘white men’ are
few and far between, have at least this advantage over home-
keeping folk: that when by chance they do alight on a
settlement of their fellow-countrymen-they taste of the
pleasures of boundless hospitality with a keen relish which
can scarcely be imagined by those who spend all their lives
surrounded by civilisation. In Blagovestchensk, it is true,
we found not a single Englishman or Englishwoman; but
128 2 BLAGOVESTCHENSK

nevertheless we were in the midst of English-speaking people,
who could not have treated us more kindly or made us more
thoroughly at home had we been not only of their own nation-
ality but of their very families. Barely a quarter of our long
sledge journey was yet accomplished ; but we could not resist
the attractions by which we were surrounded, and although a
forty-eight hours’ rest was all we had allowed ourselves, the
evening of the fifth day was drawing to a close before we
were once more under way. At the house of Mr. Paulsen,
a Danish gentleman who, in addition to fulfilling his duties
as an officer of the Imperial Russian Telegraph Service, has
established a very successful brewery in the town, we learnt
in how high a degree of comfort it is possible to exist in
the midst of the wild regions of Eastern Siberia. Exter-
nally Mr. Paulsen’s residence was an ordinary Siberian
wooden house; but when one stepped within, one could
imagine himself suddenly transported into a London sub-
urban villa. A spacious conservatory opening from the
drawing-room was filled with flourishing plants, some of
them natives of countries thousands of miles away; and
everything betokened so high a degree of comfort that it
was almost impossible to realise that one was in the midst
of Siberia. From Mrs. Paulsen, a German lady, as well as
from her husband, we received the heartiest of welcomes ;
and when we were subsequently told, some hundreds of
miles from Blagovestchensk, that this lady kept the best
table in the Amur Province, not excepting that of his
Excellency the Governor-General, we felt not the smallest
inclination to doubt the truthfulness of our informant,
GERMANS IN SIBERIA 129

On the day after our arrival we made the acquaintance
of Messrs. Poppe and Kehrer, partners in the German firm
of Dieckmann and Co., merchants and shipowners, who
are doing a vast business in the importation of German
manufactures and produce into Siberia by way of the Amur;
and for the remainder of our stay their house was thrown
open tous. We heard everywhere that the Russians are
on the whole not too well disposed towards their German
fellow-residents, and the fact is not very difficult to under-
stand. In all the larger towns of Eastern Siberia, German
names, somewhat disguised by the Russian characters in
which they are expressed, may be read over the doors
of the principal shops; and it is not altogether to be
wondered at that the success which attends the superior
energy and mercantile ability of their Teutonic neighbours
settled amongst them should give rise to a certain feeling
of jealousy in Russian breasts. After leaving Vladivostok
we never came across a single English house of business
until we arrived at the end of our sledge journey in Asia;
though in the great towns of the Amur—at Khabarovka, at
Blagovestchensk, and at Stretensk, we frequently came
across the stores and branch offices of Mr. Enoch Emery,
an enterprising American merchant whose head-quarters
are at the seaport of Nikolaevsk, and whom by a fortunate
accident we subsequently met at Moscow.

In addition to the German merchants therg are some
few officials also of German birth, though in most cases they
have become naturalised as Russian subjects. The super-
intendent of telegraphs in Blagovestchensk, Mr. Adamson,
130 BLAGOVESTCHENSK.

was a native of Dresden who also had under his control
the letter administration and Government post-travelling
arrangements in his district. For at the time of our
journey a scheme for the amalgamation of these three
branches of the service was just coming into operation.
In some districts, as for instance in Blagovestchensk
and its neighbourhood, the new system was already in
working order; but elsewhere we found the three depart-
ments under quite separate administrations. Probably
when the new system has been thoroughly established,
some advantages will be derived from it, and travellers
will find that station-masters and yemshiks are under more
' efficient control than they were of old; but, as far as our
experience went, we found that at those stations where we
were at the mercy of a pretentious official in the smart
uniform of a postal officer, we had longer to wait and more
difficulty in purchasing food, or getting our own frozen
viands, cooked, than when the only occupant of the post-
station proved to be anilliterate, unkempt, unwashed peasant.

The open market-place of Blagovestchensk presented a
very remarkable appearance at this winter season. Game,
meat, fish, milk, and provisions of various kinds were being
offered for sale in profusion when we passed through it
on the second day of our stay in the town. At first
the stock of meat seemed larger than could possibly be
needed by a town of some 8,000 inhabitants; but when
we remembered that the butcher was under no immediate
necessity of disposing of his ware for fear of its spoiling, and
that even the fish had probably been dead for several weeks,
FROZEN VIANDS 131

we were no longer surprised. The fish rested on their frozen
noses, stacked up in threes or fours, like the tripod for a
gipsy kettle, or the piled rifles of a regiment; and we did
not at first recognise that the solid white lumps, shaped like
bowls of various sizes and piled up into pyramids, consisted
of frozen milk. The butchers had hard work to chop in
pieces the stony carcasses of bullocks; and even the loaves
of bread would have served very well for driving nails into
a deal board.
For the cold had 2

now greatly increased :

 

and Pntle ; off-
Blagor sslehousk

 
    

in severity. In the
early morning a ther-
mometer hung out-
side the window of
our hotel registered
as low as—27° Réau-

 

mur, or more than 28°
below zero Fahren-
heit. Although the
hotel was, like all houses in Siberia, furnished throughout
with double windows, and although our room was heated
almost to an uncomfortable degree of warmth, the cold out-
side was so great that even on the inner surface of the
inner windows the moisture of the ill-ventilated apartment
formed a collection of ice in some places more than an
inch in thickness. :

In spite, however, of wind and cold, the clear night air
had a wonderfully bracing effect. The fatigues of our journey

 

 
132 BLAGOVESTCHENSK

were soon dissipated, and even the sudden change from the
coarse, plain fare of the road to the best of good living was
powerless to affect us.

On the fifth day after our arrival in the town we reluc-
tantly determined to tear ourselves away. It wanted but
two days to the Russian Christmas; but we refused to be
tempted by the pressing invitations which we received to
remain and study the Siberian method of celebrating
the festival. Our preparations were all made. Mrs.
Paulsen had most kindly volunteered to undertake the
functions of our commissariat; and we had received from
her hands a royal gift in the shape of a huge sack crammed
with frozen viands. First and foremost it contained a
variety of excellent soups, set out to freeze in soup plates,
so that one had but to dip into the bag, draw forth two
discs of brown ice, and deliver them over to the ruler of
the post-station kitchen, and in a few minutes a bowl of
steaming hot soup would be set before us, very different in
flavour from the native ‘shtchee.’ Among the remainder
of the provisions were an enormous joint of roast beef, a
fine goose, and a leg of lamb; while from a German sausage-
maker who had established himself in the town, we had pro-
cured a supply of Wiirste in great variety, and in quantity
almost sufficient to stock a German larder for a month.
Our broken spirit thermometer we replaced by one of quick-
silver, the only kind easily procurable; and the damage
sustained by our sledge had been roughly repaired.

. Our podorozhnaya, or permit to travel, had expired.
The rules of the Government with regard to the grant-
PODOROZHNAYAS 133

ing of podorozhnayas are rather complicated, and the
Officials themselves do not seem to be thoroughly posted
in them. It is usual for two men travelling together to
obtain a permit for two horses, and only to pay for two
horses at each station, though in Eastern Siberia they
always obtain three. If, however, the travellers’ luggage
is over a certain weight, the station-master can demand
payment for three horses, and as the stations are never
provided with weighing machines the weight of luggage
is a constant source of dispute between travellers and
starostas. At the time we left Vladivostok, the winter road
was not yet formally open. The date fixed by regulation
for this event was, we were told, the 15th of the Russian
December ; and if we started before that date it would be
necessary for us to take a permit for three horses instead of
two. This meant a serious increase in the cost of the
journey, as with three horses mentioned in the podorozhnaya
the station-master could always demand payment for three,
and the cost of travel was thus increased fifty per cent.
There was, however, nothing for it but to submit, and we
had accordingly taken out a permit for Blagovestchensk,
hoping there to obtain one for two horses for the rest of the
journey. To our disgust we found, when travelling from
Vladivostok to Khabarovka, that Russians who had obtained
permits on the same date as ourselves, and under precisely
similar circumstances, had been granted two-horse permits,
and were travelling at two-thirds our cost. However, at
Blagovestchensk we found no difficulty in obtaining a two-
horse permit thence to Tiumen, and we congratulated our-
134 BLAGOVESTCHENSK

selves that even if we were still compelled to pay for three
horses we had saved a substantial sum in the Government
tax, which is calculated at the rate of one kopek per verst
for each horse mentioned in the podorozhnaya.

Armed with our new permit we proceeded on the morn-
ing of Tuesday, January 4, to the post-station, lying on
the outskirts of the town, and entered into negotiations
with the starosta for continuing our journey. The first
stage, he told us, was overland, and, as snow was still
lacking, sledging would be impracticable. It was possible
to go.round by river, but the distance was much greater—
twenty-eight miles instead of sixteen; and as the river-
route was rough and bad, and the Government regulations
did not require him to take us by river, he would have to
ask a higher rate of payment. We agreed to pay at the
tariff rate for three horses by the long river-route, and it
was promised that the yemshik and troika should be at the
hotel by eight o’clock in the evening. ;

In order to smooth the negotiations I had at an early
stage offered the starosta a cigarette; but. he refused the
roffe with emphasis, and Mr. Nielsen informed me that the
man was a Molokan, and consequently never smoked. The
Molokans, or Milkmen, who have obtained their name from
their custom of drinking milk on fast-days, are a remark-
able body of dissenters from the Greek Church. They
are opposed to the worship of the sacred pictures or ikons
which form an indispensable part of the furniture of every
room in an orthodox Russian’s house; they profess to ob-
tain their doctrines directly from the Bible as the only
MOLOKANS 135

inspired source of religious knowledge; and generally they
approach very nearly to some sects of English Protestants.
They have suffered much persecution at the hands of the
Orthodox Church, and are said to have come out of it un-
scathed, being generally reported to form the most honest,
industrious, and sober class to be found in the Russian
Empire. We did not find, however, that the religious tenets
of our friend the station-master of Blagovestchensk pre-
vented him from imposing somewhat on the helpless tra-
veller. The route by which we reached the first station
was an excellent sledging road, and the distance proved
to be nothing like twenty-seven miles.

Punctually at the promised hour the horses appeared
in the hotel yard. Our goods were hastily packed into
the sledge, and, farewells being said, we galloped off up the
river. For the first time since starting we had donned all
our furs, drawing our heavy sheepskin coats over the double
deerskin kukliankas. We were like huge bundles of skins;
the sledge seemed scarcely big enough to hold us, and to
move an arm or a leg was almost impossible. Gradually,
however, we became accustomed to the strange costume,
and as the thermometer daily fell lower and lower till the
mercury was frozen solid and refused to tell us how cold it
was, we felt that we were none too warmly clothed.
CHAPTER IX

BLAGOVESTCHENSK TO ALBAZIN

The beauties of the Amur—The Siberian moon—Collisions—Buriat
Cossacks—Missionary work among the Buriats—Slow travelling—
‘Pochta budet’—Effects of the cold—Sleepy yemshiks—A natty
post-station—Pairs and troikas—Burning cold—Camels and oxen—
The cowardly wolf—Private horses—Russian bargains—The Buriats
again—Drunken yemshiks—The duga—Cossacks on the spree—A
lonely post-station—Deer and deerskins—A meeting with old
friends—The Siberian carpenter—A dangerous drive—Albazin.

We were now entering upon the grandest, the most
picturesque region through which we were to pass during
the whole of our journey from the Pacific to the borders of
the Baltic Sea. Summer travellers exhaust their voca-
bulary of superlatives in their descriptions of the beauties
of the Amur between Albazin and Blagovestchensk. The
numerous islets fringed with snow-white sand and brilliant
with foliage and blossom look, they tell us, like floating
flower beds on the clear surface of the water over which
the little steamers glide, while along the banks thickly
wooded hills and rocky cliffs alternate with grassy plains.
All these visions of loveliness were, of course, denied to us;
but there was a stern grandeur in the wintry landscape
which, in its unfamiliarity, more than compensated us for
THE MOON 137

the loss of the milder beauties of summer. At places the
rugged cliffs rose to great heights sheer upright from the
frozen river, and elsewhere the course lay between un-
dulating hills, whose snowy mantle was completely hidden
by the thickly clustered trunks and branches of gaunt,
leafless trees or woods of pines and firs, amidst the dark
foliage of which gleamed here and there the white bark of
the slender silver birches.

But it was night when we left the provincial capital,
and the moon, born on the Western Christmas Day, yet
wanted three days of attaining its prime. For my diary,
in three calendars, showed that while in the sledge,
where we kept English time, we were still in the fourth
day of January, on the left bank of the river the dawn
of Christmas Eve was at hand, and on the right they
would soon register the twelfth day of the twelfth moon of
the twelfth year of his Imperial Majesty Kuang Hsi, ruler
of the Celestial Empire. A Chinese month is truly lunar,
and by reference to a Chinese calendar one can always
tell in a moment, barring clouds and mists, how much
moonlight he may expect on any night of the year. And
the moon becomes an object of more than ordinary interest
on a journey such as we were making; for though, as I have
said, the nights were never really dark, it may be easily
imagined that sledging in the moonlight nights had a
charm which the brightest starlight could never give. When,
in the long vigils between dusk and sunrise, sleep deserted us,
there was occupation in watching the moon from night to

night as it increased in strength till it reached its plenitude
14
138 BLAGOVESTCHENSK TO ALBAZIN

and began to wane; and for my part I have seemed on
closer terms of intimacy with Astarte since that journey
than I ever felt myself before.

In the middle of the night, as we were proceeding up
the river, a line of some three or four sledges laden with
men and merchandise came winding along in the opposite
direction; and we suddenly experienced a heavy crash as
our sledge was brought violently into collision with one
of the train. Our yemshik treated the matter coolly
enough. He had almost the whole broad river on which
to pick his path; but collisions are regarded as pleasant
little incidents to relieve the monotony of sledge-travelling,
and the outriggers will, as a rule—though not always—
prevent either vehicle from overturning. We were not,
however, surprised to find that the iron band of a sledge-
runner, worn thin over the stony roads beyond Blagovest-
chensk, had broken in two. It was impossible to proceed
in this condition; and when at three in the morning we
arrived at Hkaterinovska—one of numerous villages named
after Catherine the Great—we determined to put up for
the remainder of the night and seek a blacksmith at
daylight.

We had just finished a frugal supper of tea and biscuits,
and were composing ourselves for sleep with fragrant
Manilas brought with us from China, when we were dis-
turbed by the arrival of two open sledges, and. presently
five Cossack soldiers walked into the guest-room. One
was evidently Russian; but the dusky faces, narrow eyes,
and broad noses of the other four told of Mongolian blood
BURIAT COSSACKS 139

in their veins. They were very sociable. After drinking
several glasses of tea they produced a large bottle of
‘schnapps’ and invited us to drink with them. We were
a little doubtful as to what species of alcoholic poison the
bottle contained; but both Uren and myself had had
sufficient experience of Eastern races to know that if one
desires to cultivate pleasant relations with them, one must
not be too fastidious, but must be content to do in Rome
as the Romans do. We had learnt, too, that one cannot
offend a Russian more than by rejecting an offer of hospi-
tality; and we accordingly accepted the proffered drink.
It proved to be a liquor very similar to ‘square-face’ gin,
and decidedly more to our taste than vodka.

We learnt that our fellow-travellers were a party of
Cossack soldiers returning home on leave after several
years’ service on the banks of the Amur and Ussuri. ‘ Are
you Russian ?’ my companion asked of one of the dusky-
skinned soldiers. ‘No,’ he replied, ‘we are Buriats.’
The reply struck me as a little odd; for I have several
times in her Majesty’s Supreme Court for China and
Japan heard individuals with high cheek-bones and deep
bronze complexions declare, in answer to questions as to
their nationality, that they were Englishmen. This Buriat
soldier was undoubtedly, like the majority of his tribe, a
Russian subject ; but his feeling of loyalty was not strong
enough to induce him toidentify himself with the dominant
race.

The party was travelling in the same direction as our-
selves, and we were destined to see a good deal of them
140 BLAGOVESTCHENSK TO ALBAZIN

during the next few days. Two of them were to leave the -
post-road at Albazin and thence to proceed far inland
where there were no horses and no roads, and where for
days together they might not come across a living soul.
Inured as they were to hardships, it was evident that they
did not look forward to this portion of their journey with
any degree of pleasure. Of the remaining three we gathered
that one had his home in the neighbourhood of Kiakhta,
while the other two had also to proceed a considerable
distance along our own route.

The Buriats are a Mongolian race, principally occupying
a vast steppe in the Trans-Baikal Province, through which
we were subsequently to pass. They were the first Siberian
native race amongst whom Christian propagandist work
was instituted, two English ministers, Messrs. Stallybrass
and Swan, having gone out amongst them some seventy
years ago. The mission lasted about twenty-four years
before it was broken up by the Tsar Nicholas, at the
instigation of the Greek Church ecclesiastical authorities ;
but, although this mission was doubtless valuable as a
civilising agency, it would appear from all accounts to
have made very few converts from Buddhism and
Shamanism, the ancient religions of the race. Latterly,
however, close contact and intermarriage with the Russians
have been the means of bringing thousands of Buriats into
the Greek Church fold ; and I noticed that two or three of
our Cossack friends crossed themselves reverently before
the ikons at the post-stations. Another of them, however,
who had risen to the grade of a petty officer in his Cossack
A LAMA 141

corps, informed me that he was a lama, or celibate priest
of Buddhism.

Dwellers among the Buriats describe them as being
one of the most intelligent of the native races of Siberia;
and, judging from our experience of these Cossacks during
some days of travel in their company, I should say the
reputation is deserved. Nor were they altogether un-
educated. Some, if not all of them, could read and write
the Russian language, and at least one understood the
Roman alphabet. As far as we could judge, too, their
knowledge of Western countries, though extremely limited,
was in advance of that of many of the Russian peasants with
whom we came in contact. They displayed the greatest
interest in our expedition, followed out our route on the
map, examined our clothes and our belongings, and asked us
many questions, some of which our limited vocabulary of
Russian words did not enable us to answer. They showed
us photographs of themselves and Buriat friends taken in
Siberian towns; and they often put themselves to much
inconvenience in order to render us little kindly services.

In about an hour our first interview came to an end;
and my companion and I stretched ourselves out on the
floor for a couple of hours’ sleep before morning. Soon
after daylight the station-master introduced us to a black-
smith. No new iron band was procurable; but the broken
band was soon ripped off, and, after the thick, unworn ends
had been welded together, replaced on the runner. Half
an hour before noon we were once more under way; and
a pleasant two hours’ sledging over smooth ice amidst
142 BLAGOVESTCHENSK TO ALBAZIN

picturesque scenery brought us to the little village of
Bibikova.

We had been warned before leaving Blagovestchensk
that we should find travelling on the Upper Amur and
Shilka rivers slow and difficult, owing to the scarcity of
horses and the comparative abundance of voyagers. Between
Khabarovka and the Amur capital we had recorded an
average of nearly two hundred versts a day; but between
here and Stretensk we should be lucky, we were told, if we
managed to cover half this distance. Along the whole of
this part of the route only three troikas are kept at a
station ; and as two of these are required almost daily for
the conveyance of the mails, the supply of horses at the
disposal of travellers is very limited. The district, too, is
very sparsely populated, and it is often difficult to obtain
private horses even on payment of double fares. At Bibi-
kova the old story of ‘no horses,’ which we had only once
heard since leaving the Khanka Lake, was told once more,
and during the next few days it was repeated to the verge
of damnable iteration. Six hours was the length of our
enforced halt; but Mrs. Paulsen’s bag of frozen viands
provided us with a bounteous feast ; and a subsequent nap
on the floor compensated us for some of the sleep lost on
the previous night.

At eight in the evening fresh horses were harnessed ;
and towards midnight we pulled up at the foot of a steep
cliff. We could see no house; but the yemshik pointed to
a steep roadway winding up the bank; and, after clamber-
ing for some distance encumbered by our heavy furs, we
POCHTA BUDET 143

perceived the station. We were told we could proceed no
farther. There were horses at the station; but ‘ Pochta
budet’—a mail was expected, and the horses must be kept
for it. We expostulated; but without effect. Then we
insisted that the horses, which had been taken out of the
sledge and brought up the hill, should be reharnessed, and
the vehicle brought up into safety; for we had met more
than one Mongolian caravan winding along the ice during
the day, and we did not quite relish the idea of leaving our
worldly possessions on the river, out of sight and hearing
of the station, at the mercy of emigrants and travellers,
civilised and savage. The station-master protested that
there was no ground for uneasiness; but when we solemnly
assured him that we should hold him responsible for every
kopek of the value of our sledge and its contents, as we
knew we had a legal right to do, he began to reconsider his
decision. Other men were called in, a consultation was
held, and a decision was apparently come to that we were
troublesome customers, and had better be got rid of as
soon as possible; for in half an hour fresh horses were in
the sledge and we were once more on our way, enjoying
the pleasures of midnight sledging.

The cold had now reached almost its greatest intensity ;
but it was impossible with our mercury thermometer to
ascertain exactly what number of degrees we were ex-
periencing. At night the quicksilver, which freezes at
about 39 degrees below zero Fahrenheit, became solidified,
though it rose by midday as high as 380 and 25 degrees.
The air, however, was perfectly still, and in the bright,
144 BLAGOVESTCHENSK TO ALBAZIN

sunshiny days the cold caused us comparatively little dis-
comfort, though my companion had at every station to
pick from his moustache lumps of ice as large as walnuts,
formed by the congealed moisture of his breath. At night,
while sleeping in the sledge, was the most uncomfortable
time; for then we had to choose between covering our
faces with thick scarves or the lappets of our caps, or
leaving them exposed to the air. In the first case we
always, on waking, found our faces soaked with breath-
engendered moisture, which trickled down our necks and
made us miserably damp; while exposure of the nose
caused serious danger of frost-bite. If the mouth and nose
were alone covered, and the eyes were left exposed, the
breath, driven upwards by the scarf, settled on our eye-
lashes and froze there, with the result that on waking we
found our eyelids glued together with ice, which we had to
thaw with our fingers before we could look about us.

If it were not for the necessity of breathing, travelling
in frigid climates would be far more pleasant than it is. For
although the discomfort caused by the freezing of the
breath is greatest at night, even by day it is not incon-
siderable. One’s coat collar becomes stiff with ice; and
every thread of fur within reach of one’s breath is white
with hoar-frost. As soon as one enters a warm room all
this frozen moisture begins to thaw, and soon all one’s
wraps in the region of the throat are in the sloppiest con-
dition. To dry them at the fire is not a long process; but
when it has to be repeated at station after station half a
dozen times a day the task becomes monotonous. But it
SLEEPY YEMSHIKS 145

is only those adorned with long beards and moustaches
who can enjoy all these luxuries in their supreme degree.
For when beard, moustache, scarf, and fur coat are frozen
together into one inseparable mass, their owner has to sit
stewing in all his furs in a hot room till the ice has thawed,
or else to effect a release at the risk of tearing locks of hair
from his chin and upper lip.

Another pleasure of night travelling which we expe-
rienced several times in this part of our journey is that of
waking up after three or four hours’ travelling on a fifteen-
mile stage to find the yemshik asleep on the box, and the
horses, half asleep also, creeping along at the rate of a
mile an hour. Then is the time to bring into requisition
one’s readily acquired stock of Russian oaths. Or per-
chance one arrives at the end of the stage before waking,
to find that a journey which ought to have been completed
in an hour and a half has taken four hours to accomplish.
The only course then open to one is to deprive the yemshik
of his drink-money—‘ na chai,’ ‘for tea’ as they call it in
the West, while in the East their less decorous but more
truthful brethren term it ‘ na vodka.’

It was after a stage of this kind that we arrived in the
early Russian Christmas morning at the post-station of
Korsakova and were ushered into the neatest and_best-
furnished little guest-room which we had yet seen. In
honour of the day, presumably, a little oil lamp was burn-
ing before the sacred picture in the corner; the walls
were hung with photographs and pictures; the floor was
carpeted, and little nick-nacks and antimacassars orna-
146 BLAGOVESTCHENSK TO ALBAZIN

mented the furniture. The little room bore every sign of
being used as the family parlour during the absence of
travellers; and we felt quite at home as we made our
usual early morning meal of tea and biscuits while fresh
horses were being harnessed. Presently we had our cus-
tomary dispute with the station-master over the post-fare,
and, having lost the battle, paid for three horses and re-
mounted our sledge.

For we had resolved to stand upon our rights. Russians
travelling with three horses usually only paid for two, and
why should we pay for more? It is true the difference
was only three kopeks per verst, or a little more than a
farthing for each of us in Eastern Siberia, and less than
a farthing in the West; but at Blagovestchensk we had
still considerably over five thousand versts to cover before
reaching the railway at Tiumen, not to mention the sledging
in Europe; and if we could succeed in getting all the way
through for a two-horse fare we should be the gainers
by some thirteen or fourteen pounds. Moreover my com-
panion, who was of a somewhat pugnacious temperament,
took delight in these little battles. In the great majority
of cases the station-master would accept payment for two
horses without a murmur; but whenever we saw a little
procession of yemshiks file out of the house into the station-
yard or into the roadway in front and laboriously heave
one side of the sledge off the ground, we always knew there
was trouble in store. The station-master would return to us
with a long face and a sad story about the dreadful weight
of our baggage. It was wonderful how their estimates
BURNING COLD 147

varied. Some declared that we had ten pud of forty
pounds, and some twenty-five: but they were pretty well
all agreed—those who lifted the sledge—that there was
more weight than the regulations allowed us to take with a
pair of horses.

Sometimes we gained the victory in these little dis-
putes; but candour compels me to admit that these cases
were the exceptions. For the battle generally resolved
itself into a trial of patience; and as the starosta had the
whole day before him and we were anxious to proceed
without delays, we usually gave way after a few minutes’
wrangling and paid the three-horse fare demanded. We
had indeed been advised at Vladivostok to save ourselves
trouble and annoyance by making up our minds before-
hand to pay for three horses throughout; but we had the
satisfaction of knowing at the end of our journey that we
had saved some few pounds by rejecting this advice.

At nine o’clock on the Russian Christmas morning we
halted at the village of Kumarsk, and searched the sledge
for a tin of prime Wiltshire bacon which we knew was to
be found somewhere among the packages. Jingerless fur
gloves are not the most convenient articles for handiwork,
and while searching for the tin I laid my gloves aside; for,
although a prolonged exposure of the fingers would infallibly
result in frost-bite, it takes some little time for even the
severest cold to penetrate; and for five or ten minutes one
can work in the open air with ungloved hands and suffer
little inconvenience. But I had forgotten the stories in my
school lesson-books of cold metals burning the flesh as if
148 BLAGOVESTCHENSK TO ALBAZIN

red-hot, and seizing the bacon tin I attempted to carry it
into the house. But I soon dropped it. It did not actually
blister my flesh, but the sensation was certainly very
similar to burning. The thermometer at this time could
not, as we afterwards learnt, have registered much less
than 80 degrees of frost, which is pretty respectable even
for an Arctic winter, so I arrived at the conclusion that
those school-book stories were just a little exaggerated.

It is said that Siberians often, after taking a vapour-
bath in the very depth of winter, rush out steaming and
stark naked from the bath-house and take a quick roll in
the snow. I never saw this done, and for my own part it
is a feat I should not care to attempt; but from some
little experiments I made myself I am convinecd that there
is nothing impossible in it, and that even the discomfort
would not be so great as some might imagine.

The fact is, as candid travellers admit, that the effects
of this extreme cold, though often very curious and always
inconvenient, are not so terrible in themselves as might be
supposed. Of course when combined with lack of warm
clothing or scarcity of food, and with great fatigue, its
effects are terrible indeed; and the sufferings which have
been endured by Arctic explorers are doubtless impossible of
exaggeration. But the healthy traveller who has nothing
but the cold to contend with, and who is well supplied with
appliances for setting it at defiance, will suffer from nothing
worse than petty inconveniences and discomforts. I have
heard one Siberian traveller declare that he had felt the cold
more during an easterly wind in the sub-tropical parts of
FROST 149

China than he had ever done in the depth of a Siberian
winter; and although I cannot go to quite this length
myself, I would not impugn his truthfulness.

Of course some of the effects of the cold are startling
enough. I have been assured that in Mongolia the winters
are so cold that warm water poured from a jug will meet
the earth with a clatter of solid lumps of ice; but if
so Mongolia is colder than Siberia, though we were as-
tonished sometimes at the rapidity with which even there
the frost produced its effects. Our portmanteaus and bags,
though buried in hay and covered over with a thick cotton
mattress, could not keep out the cold in the slightest
degree, and a mirror taken from the innermost recesses
of a travelling-bag required half a dozen washings before
its surface would cease to be dimmed with coatings of
ice formed by the vapour in the warm room of the post-
stations. Over the felt-covered outer doors of the houses we
could always observe fantastically shaped masses of ice and
hoar-frost formed by the vapour produced by the warmth
within whenever the door is opened; and we never entered
a house except in a cloud of steam.

Almost at every station we experienced a fresh delay
for want of horses. Sometimes the mails were expected,
and horses must be kept for them; at other times the
mail had just left, and taken all the horses away. But,
although slow, travelling continued to be exceedingly plea-
sant. The beautiful scenery, the clear bright weather, and
the smooth ice combined to render sledging enjoyable ;
and objects of interest on the road were fairly numerous.

15
BLAGOVESTCHENSK TO ALBAZIN

150

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WOLVES ISI

garded us with apparent interest as we approached ; but
before we had got within fifty yards of him he scampered
away, and was soon up the bank and out of sight.

Later on, while travelling along the river Uda, I saw
another wolf; but these were the only two of the dreaded
animals we encountered, though a Russian who travelled
from Khabarovka a few miles behind us told us he saw
altogether eight between that town and Tomsk. There
appears to be a notion among Englishmen—and indeed
among Western Europeans generally—that wolves are a
serious source of danger to travellers in Siberia. There is
an idea, derived from some old Russian tale, that it is
necessary for the traveller to take a stock of babies with
him so that he can throw out one now and again to engage
the attention of the wolves while he makes his escape.
Recent voyagers have done something to dissipate these
errors; but they are still pretty widely current. As a
matter of fact the Siberian wolf is a cowardly animal. He
does sometimes give trouble to lonely pedestrians; but
such a thing as an attack by wolves upon a post-sledge is
utterly unknown in Siberia.

Oceasionally the blue smoke of wood-fires curling up
from the right bank of the river showed us the position of
Mongol villages; but they were very few and far between.
At the stations we sometimes met two or three Russians
travelling between village and village; but often for a
whole night the only human being we could see would be a
returning yemshik lying asleep at the bottom of a little low
sledge amidst his furs, while one horse drew him homewards
152 BLAGOVESTCHENSK TO ALBAZIN

at a walking pace, and two others followed behind at their
own sweet wills. For a team of returning horses is not re-
quired to bring home passengers. At each station a certain
number of animals are kept; they take travellers to the
nearest station in either direction, but they go back empty-
handed—if such a phrase can be applied to horses—even
though there may be a dozen passengers waiting to go to
the station to which they are returning. This is the rule;
but it is not always strictly carried out. As we were glad
to discover on one occasion, it is sometimes possible to bribe
a returning yemshik to give his horses double duty.

Towards midnight on the Russian Christmas Day we
arrived at a village called Tsagayan, and found two sledges
laden with heavy mail-bags standing in the station-yard.
It was the second post we had met that day; and, as we
expected, it left no horses for us. Perhaps there were
none for the mails either; at all events they did not pro-
ceed till the following morning, the postman—a youth in
his teens—hanging his long revolver over his head, and
peacefully sharing with us such sleeping accommodation as
the station-house afforded, while his letters remained out in
the yard in their leather bags.

Delays were beginning to get monotonous ; and when, on
the following day at Kuznetsova, we were again told that
there were no post-horses to be had for some hours, we sent
out into the village to see what could be obtained from the
peasants. The Christmas festivities seemed not yet to be
at an end; for while we were awaiting our messenger’s re-
turn, a troop of young girls, in the national peasant dress,
A SIBERIAN BARGAIN 153

came marching in procession to the station; and presently
we heard them giggling and romping in the next room, divi-
ded from ours only by a wooden partition full of chinks
and knot-holes, at which we could frequently discern a glis-
tening eye. Presently our messenger returned, and a bar-
gain was soon struck for our conveyance to the next station
for three roubles, a little more than double the two-horse
posting fare.

We were surprised to find only two horses harnessed to
the sledge. Hitherto we had travelled once with five horses
and once with four; but never with less than three. How-
ever, we were assured that the pair could take us comfort-
ably; and certainly the work seemed easy enough for them
along the smooth ice of the river. They galloped away,
making considerably better time than we had often made
with a troika. At the end of the stage, however, we re-
ceived a lesson in Russian bargaining. Although the bar-
gain had unmistakably been for three roubles, the yemshik
stoutly denied this, and demanded four roubles and a half.
And this was not the only occasion on which we experienced
a difficulty of this sort. Two or three times we made a
bargain, through a station-master, for a supply of private
horses, and afterwards had the bargain repudiated and
higher terms demanded by the owner of the beasts, who,
seeing we were foreigners, thought he saw a chance of
bleeding us.

This ‘going back on’ a bargain once made was new to
us, and proved very exasperating. The recognised principle
of trade among nearly all Eastern races is for the seller to
154 BLAGOVESTCHENSK TO ALBAZIN

begin by asking at least double the worth of his wares, and
the buyer to offer less than half their value. Then the
seller gradually decreases his price, and the buyer increases
his offer, till a bargain is struck. But when once the seller
has come down to a certain figure he never raises it again.
In Corea they have some remarkable trade customs. One
of these is exactly the reverse of the Western principle of
making a reduction on taking a quantity. When in Seoul,
I was told by foreign residents that if they wished to buy
say twenty articles of a certain kind at native shops, they
had to send servants out ten or twenty times to buy them
in ones or twos, because if they ordered twenty at once the
price would be immediately raised—perhaps in obedience to
the economical law that an increased demand or a decreased
supply enhances prices. But even in Corea they do not go
back on their bargains. It is left to the Russian horse-
owner to agree for one price and then to demand a higher.

We were assisted in our little dispute with the yemshik
over the fare by our Buriat Cossack friends, whom we had
now caught up once more. They had been waiting at this
post-station for the best part of a day, and had still to
exercise their patience for a couple of hours before getting
horses. J amused them for some time with a copy of Dr.
Lansdell’s ‘ Through Siberia,’ which I kept always at hand
for use as a guide-book. Dr. Lansdell’s very accurate de-
scription of the country was of course beyond their com-
prehension ; but in the illustrations they took the liveliest
interest, and especially in the portraits of Buriats and
representations of Buriat costume. At five in the evening
A FRIEND IN NEED 155

their horses were ready; but we had still two hours to
remain.

Just before the time for our departure a sledge drove
up, and a Russian and his wife entered the station. We
watched with intense interest while the gentleman divested
himself of his furs ; for if an official uniform were displayed
beneath, we knew what we should have to expect. Of the
three troikas kept at the station the Cossacks had two, and
if the new-comers could present a Crown podorozhnaya, they
would take the third and leave us in the lurch. Fortunately
he proved to be a civilian; and we had the pleasure of
seeing his face drop, and his wife’s also, when they heard
that we were just starting off with the only available troika,
and that they would have to wait till the Cossack’s horses
had returned and rested. Presently the wife retired to the
back and entered into an earnest conversation with the
starosta. We suspected plotting, and we were not wrong.
‘What the result would otherwise have been I do not know;
but, as on a previous occasion, we again found a friend in
the starosta’s wife. She came and whispered to us that the
Russian lady had been endeavouring to bribe or cajole the
starosta into giving the only troika to her and her husband.
But our friend had interfered in our behalf; and in a few
minutes we were safely seated in our sledge and galloping
away.

We tore along for a mile at a break-neck speed; and
then suddenly the yemshik pulled up, and turning towards
us asked us in which direction we wanted to go. His
method of driving had already inspired us with grave doubts
156 BLAGOVESTCHENSK TO ALBAZIN

as to the man’s sobriety, and now our suspicions were con-
verted into certainties. Luckily we were on the right road.
It proved an exhilarating drive, but it was not the only one
of the kind to which we were treated during that festive
Christmas season. On one occasion a station-master actually
admitted to us that we were delayed not for want of horses,
but because there was not a single yemshik about the place
who was sober enough to drive.

As soon as our yemshik was convinced that he was
going in the right direction he started off once more, yelling
at the top of his voice, slashing his whip, and tearing along
at a furious gallop, sending us crashing over stumps of trees
and rattling and bumping over obstructions of all kinds
lying off the side of the road—for the greater part of his
stage was overland, close by the bank of the river. Sud-
denly in the midst of one of these bumps the duga came
flying off over the ears of the central horse, and before the
team could be pulled up the sledge had passed over it.

The feat of fastening a heavy duga firmly in position
is one requiring no little dexterity. The arch is kept in
place mainly by the pressure of a shaft on either side of it;
and to obtain the requisite amount of pressure the shafts
have to be lashed tightly to the horse’s collar with leathern
thongs. The thong, one end of which is fastened to the
collar, is passed round the shaft, and then back through the
collar again. The yemshik places his foot or his knee
against the horse’s collar, and, putting all his back into the
work, pulls on the thong till the shaft is bent inwards on
to the collar, and then makes all fast. He repeats the
A DRUNKEN YEMSHIK 157

operation on the opposite side till shafts, duga, and collar
form one compact mass against which the centre horse
pushes. It is a difficult feat, even for a sober ostler whose
movements are encumbered by thick furs and skins; and
to our inebriated yemshik the difficulties appeared almost
insurmountable. For a time it was amusing to watch his
fruitless efforts to balance himself on one foot while obtain-
ing a purchase on the horse-collar with the other; but
after about twenty minutes the amusement began to pall
onus. If we had had an interpreter with us we could have
added a choice stock of words to our Russian vocabulary,
for every fresh failure was the signal for a storm of ana-
themas to be hurled at the inoffensive horse, which stood
the very picture of patience while its head was hauled from
side to side, and again and again the half-fixed duga fell
clattering on its back. But in the absence of an inter-
preter we could only console ourselves with reflections on
the marvellous spirit of conservatism which marks the
Russian’s attachment to that heavy, unwieldy, and utterly
useless encumbrance, the duga.

At length the task was accomplished satisfactorily, and
we once more dashed away in the moonlight. The wooden
arch shook and rattled ominously, but it kept its place.
Soon we descended an incline to the river; but our driver
did not deign to slacken his pace. The road had been cut
obliquely down the low back in order to lessen its declivity ;
but scorning such devices the yemshik made straight for the
river. For the last three or four feet the bank rose almost
perpendicular; but the horses took the jump fearlessly ;
158 BLAGOVESTCHENSK TO ALBAZIN

for a moment our sledge was suspended in mid-air, and
then, with a crash which nearly sent our heads through
the hood, we alighted safely on the ice. We enjoyed that
drive, but we could not repress a feeling of thankfulness
when we drew up safely at the next post-station.

Here we once more caught up our Cossack friends, and
found that they also were bent on Christmas festivities.
Schnapps and vodka were circulating freely, and we dis-
covered by experiment that the Buriat palate can appreciate
the delicacy of German sausage and good French brandy.
Either from lack of horses or from an excess of festivity on
the part of the yemshiks, we were again delayed for the
night. But their libations had not destroyed the native
courtesy of the Buriats. Retiring to an unfurnished room
adjoining, they left my companion and myself in sole
possession of the guest-room, and we passed a very com-
fortable night upon the floor.

All next morning we travelled in company with the
Cossacks, our sledge always bringing up the rear of the
procession of three. The route lay mainly by land, and
we passed through more than one large village with its
wooden church rearing aloft the pointed cupola with which
we had now grown familiar. Often, too, we passed through
woods and over hilly country, beautiful even in this winter
season. arly in the afternoon we arrived at Vaganova, a
lonely post-station on the bank of the Amur. Only two
troikas were available, and as the Cossacks were before us
we were left behind with seven hours to wait.
VENISON 159

The little piece of ground overlooking the river upon
which the station stood appeared to be an artificial clearing
from the forest which stretched away behind it. Among
the trees, to within a few yards of the house, the snow was
dotted with the hoof-marks of herds of deer; for in all
this region deer abounded, and many of the station-masters
and yemshiks appeared to combine with their Government
employment a little hunting for venison and deer-skins.
For a few shillings my companion was able to buy a large
deer-skin cloak which even in Tomsk would have cost three
or four times the money; and on one occasion while at a
post-station we saw a sledge drive up on which were a dozen
frozen carcasses of deer.

But strolling about looking at deer spoors soon palled
on us; and after making a hearty meal of a capital
perog of sturgeon-flesh, made by the starosta’s wife for the
yemshiks, we were glad to find ourselves gliding up the
river once more under a bright full moon. On arriving
next morning at the village of Permikina we were surprised
to see in the station-yard the familiar form of a huge
vashok; and on entering the guest-room we found it
occupied by our old friend the Russian officer with his wife
and three little girls, whom we had last encountered some
hundreds of versts behind. During our five days’ stay at
Blagovestchensk they had caught and passed us; but as
they stopped at night and we travelled continuously, we had,
in spite of our numerous delays and their Crown podorozh-
naya, rapidly been gaining on them.
160 BLAGOVESTCHENSK TO ALBAZIN

When we entered the station the mother was engaged
in converting her children by successive wrappings into
little animated balls of fur; but she stopped to exchange
greetings with us. Soon the hearse, as we had dubbed the
great vehicle, rattled off with its five horses, and an hour
later we sped after it. In the next stage a heavy jolting
over rough ice resulted in the smashing of an outrigger and
a horse-bar; but a carpenter at the next village soon
replaced the broken gear. It was interesting to note the
dexterity with which, using no other tool than an axe, he
chipped two ash-poles into shape; but it was not pleasant
to watch him working gloveless in the cold air, the blood
dripping from innumerable chaps and cracks in his wrinkled
hands. Nevertheless the whole village, whose time did not
appear to be very valuable, crowded out of their houses into
the station-yard to watch the operation.

Towards nightfall we approached the historical town of
Albazin, the oldest in Eastern Siberia. At the last station
before reaching it we found the starosta absent, and a party
of yemshiks and girls feasting and merrymaking. No
horses were to be had for three or four hours, we were
told; but we had a shrewd suspicion that the yemshiks
were simply loth to leave the feast, so we determined to try
what a little raving and bullying would effect. It acted
like a charm. We were soon tearing along towards Albazin
with a highly elevated yemshik on the box. We entered
the town at a furious gallop, sending men, women, and
children flying into their houses in all directions. Presently
a dog ran barking across the road, and our horses shied ;
“WE ENTER ALBAZIN 161

the sledge swerved round and shaved the corner of a house,
and for a few seconds we were in imminent danger of a
terrible smash. But the yemshik managed to regain com-
mand of his team, and we drew up in safety at the post-
station of Albazin.

16
CHAPTER X

ALBAZIN TO STRETENSK

Chernigovski—Albazin and its sieges—An elevated starosta—Em-
barrassing hospitality—The sentinel deserts his post—Off to Stre-
tensk—An unfortunate family—Gently down hill—The Buriats
again—An irascible Polish exile—Farewell to the Cossacks—Up
the Shilka River—The Seven Cardinal Sins—Restless repose—Re-
turning horses—Good-bye to the vashok—A Chinese merchant—
Stretensk—A rude hotel—English again—A transmitting station—
Tapping the wires—Borsh and pilménies—On the road again.

To outward appearance Albazin is only a mean little
Siberian village, but historically it is the most interesting
town eastward of the Baikal Sea. From the river one still
sees the remains of the fortifications erected by Nikitao
Chernigovski more than two hundred years ago. This
Chernigovski was a runaway exile, who, with a band of
followers desperate as himself, set up his camp here on
Chinese soil, built fortifications, pillaged the native tribes
of the surrounding districts, founded villages, obtained the
pardon of the Czar, and raised himself from the status of
an escaped convict to that of a distinguished and successful
general. The Chinese did not submit quietly to this invasion
of their territory. In 1685 they attacked Albazin, and after
an eighteen days’ siege they compelled the garrison to sur-
AN AFFECTIONATE STAROSTA 163

render, and, after allowing them to retire to Nerchinsk,
destroyed the fort. No sooner, however, had the conquerors
retired than the vanquished returned, repaired their fort, and
remained in possession till the following year, when a second
siege by the Chinese was only raised in view of the treaty
negotiations between Russia and China at Nerchinsk, which
ended in the restitution to China of Albazin and all the
surrounding territory. For upwards of 160 years Albazin
remained in undisputed possession of the Celestials, but in
1848 Russian colonising enterprise again directed its atten-
tion to this not very attractive region ; and then began the
series of annexations and negotiations which ended in 1860
with the cession to Russia of the whole of the territory lying
on the northern bank of the Amur River, and the coast of
Manchuria down to the frontiers of Corea.

The night was beginning to close in as we dashed into
Albazin ; but, despite the gathering darkness and the head-
long speed of our progression, we saw quite enough to con-
vince us that the few remaining relics of the age of Cherni-
govski, interesting as they might be, would scarcely repay
us for a lengthened halt. We therefore determined to
continue our journey as soon as we had dined.

But here a difficulty intervened. Entering the post-
station a few minutes after my companion, laden with pro-
visions from the sledge, I found him folded in the embrace
of an aged and particularly dirty Siberian, who was evi-
dently in an advanced stage of inebriety ; while two of our
Buriat Cossack friends lay stretched out on the floor,
watching the little comedy with evident amusement.
164 ALBAZIN TO STRETENSK

Having avoided a salute from the drunken starosta’s lips,
and disengaged himself from the old man’s embrace, Uren
informed me that the fellow had been begging for money to
buy vodka, and had been evincing his gratitude on the
receipt of a few kopeks.

Could we have horses? Oh, yes, but we must drink first
with mine host. A few more kopeks and he would have suffi-
cient to buy a small bottle of vodka. We demurred, but
finally yielded to the old man’s importunity. His gratitude
was overwhelming. I find it recorded in my notebook that
he shook hands 218 times, and wanted to kiss us. The
number of handshakes may not be absolutely accurate, but
it is nearer the mark than might be supposed. Then the
old fellow staggered out in search of the wineshop, but
soon returned in a state of depression—the shops were
closed. Never mind, we could have our carousal in the
morning! We again demurred. We wished to proceed at
once. But that was impossible; there were no post-horses
to be had. We argued the point, and meanwhile the
starosta invited himself to supper with us. His manner
of feeding was peculiar. Cutting a thick slice of bread,
he piled on to it a mixture of butter, mustard, mutton,
and jam, the whole of which disappeared with amazing
rapidity.

Could we have private horses ? Oh, yes. A bargain was
soon struck; but presently we found that there were no
yemshiks to be had. Never mind; the starosta would drive
us himself. The road was bad, and perhaps a little danger-
ous, and he did not relish turning out at night; but to
UNWELCOME GENEROSITY 165

serve us! The starosta’s wife looked troubled. She evi-
dently doubted whether her husband was in a fit condition
to manage a troika on a dangerous road; and either out of
consideration for her, or from a craven fear for our own
carcasses, we cried off the bargain and prepared ourselves
for a night’s rest with a roof over our heads.

But our sledge standing in the open street—might it not
be pillaged during the night? Would it not be better to
unload it? The starosta knew a better way: he and I
together with difficulty dragged the heavy sledge round to a
corner of the open yard, behind the post-station, and the
starosta’s dog was made fast to the vehicle with an improvised
chain and collar. Then, returning to the guest-room, Uren
and I threw our sheepskin coats upon the floor beside our
Buriat friends and were about to compose ourselves to sleep.
But presently the starosta drew a ragged and not over-clean
cotton mattress from the curtained-off corner where he and
his wife slept, and offered it to us for our use. It did not
look altogether tempting ; he would have been a bold man
who would have guaranteed its freedom from insect life.
But it would have been as much opposed to the laws of
Siberian etiquette as to those of natural courtesy to have
spurned so generous a loan; we therefore expressed our
gratitude, stretched ourselves out on the bed, and were soon
asleep.

Two or three hours later I awoke, feeling a little uneasy
about our belongings, for a few tins of provisions, which
we could ill spare, had already been pilfered from the sledge
at various times, and I did not feel very confident about the
 

 

ALBAZIN TO STRETENSK

 

 

 

166
STEEP DESCENT 167

security of the starosta’s arrangements. Slipping on my
felt boots, I went to reassure myself. The sledge seemed all
right. There were the improvised dog-collar and chain ; and
there, on the snow, was the mat put out for the dog to lie
upon. But no dog was to be seen. However, there was
nothing to be done but to trust in Providence, soI returned
to bed.

In the morning the starosta’s manner was strangely
subdued. He was suffering severely from a swollen head.
He made no reference to the promised carousal, but busied
himself in speeding our departure. A spin of twenty miles
brought us to Orlova, where we found encamped in the post-
station a Russian civilian, his wife, and their family of half
a dozen children, who for thirty-six hours had been waiting
there for horses. A post had just come in, and had again
disappointed them by taking the only two remaining troikas ;
and they had therefore no hopes of continuing their journey
for another twelve hours at least. By the judicious expen-
diture of a few roubles, however, we got horses from the
village. Soon we experienced a change of scenery, as, to
avoid the windings of the river, we crossed a hilly neck of
land. In the midst of thick woods, which here and there
showed where the axe had been at work, we climbed hills
and slid down descents so steep that every minute or two
the horses had to be turned sharp round so as to bring the
runners side-on to the road, and prevent the sledge from
taking charge and coming to a smash at the bottom of the
hill.

Towards night we arrived at Sverbieva, a village of half
168 ALBAZIN TO STRETENSK

a dozen houses, where at the post-station we came up with
the remainder of the little Cossack party. They too had
been suffering from the dearth of horses. For twenty-four
hours they had been waiting at this little village. One of
them, with kindly intent, seized the pillows in our sledge,
and was proceeding to carry them into the house, saying we
should certainly have to put up for the night; but fortu-
nately we found that, small as the village was, it boasted a
private horse-owner, and for double fares in two hours we
were once more on the road.

At midnight we were met at the door of the post-station
of Sgibnieva by the station-master, a tall, gaunt Pole, who
told us that he had been exiled as a revolutionist four-and-
twenty years before. From the drawer of the guest-room
table he produced a little Franco-Polish Dictionary, and he
could even remember a word or two of German, a language
with which he professed to have been tolerably familiar in
the days of his prosperity. He was doubtless an estimable
man, and certainly of much more polished manners than
the average Siberian post-master ; but twenty-four years of
exile had apparently not altogether subdued the natural
irascibility of temper which was no doubt a valuable quality
in a revolutionist.

All this time we had a pretty shrewd idea of the main
cause of our constant delays for want of horses. Our friend
the military officer was keeping just ahead of us with his
five-horse hearse, and taking from the stations all the
animals not required for the postal service. Sleeping by
night in the post-stations, and encumbered with impedimenta
A POLISH EXILE 169

in the shape of wife and children, it was impossible for him,
despite the alacrity inspired by his exalted office, to cover
more than seventy or eighty miles a day; and he prevented
us from doing more. Could we once manage to get past
him, we felt confident that our difficulties would be at an
end. Therefore, when our revolutionist host informed us
that he should be glad to speed us on our journey with post-
horses at 2 p.m. on the following day, we once more sug-
gested private horses.

The Pole responded with alacrity. He could get us
horses from the village for four roubles. The tariff two-
horse fare was only Rs. 1.65; but we closed with the offer,
and a messenger was despatched for the horses. We waited,
at first patiently, then impatiently. At the end of an hour
and a half we began to make frequent inquiries of the
starosta as to when we might expect the arrival of the quad-
rupeds. ‘Sei chas’ was of course the reply. We might
have guessed it without disturbing mine host in the small
hours of the morning; and there was perhaps some excuse
for the Pole’s conduct when, after the third repetition of
the question, he rushed into the room in a fury, threw our
papers on the table, and retired precipitately to bed. But
he was soon up again, for a few minutes later there arrived,
not the horses, but at least a horse-owner, who professed
his readiness to forward us a stage for five roubles. This
was the last straw. We refused to pay more than the
stipulated sum, left the starosta and the horsy individual
to fight the matter out, curled up on our rugs, and fell
asleep while the altercation was in progress. As a Russian
170. ALBAZIN TO STRETENSK

never wakes a sleeping man, we were left in peace, and it
was daylight when we woke. While we were discussing:
breakfast our Buriat friends arrived. We extended to them
a welcome which in our heart of hearts we did not feel, for
we had cordially hoped ere this to have seen the last of
them for ever. We renewed overtures for private horses,
split the difference in terms, got away two hours ahead of
the Buriats, and never saw them again.

All this time, since leaving Khabarovka, our course had
lain along the ice or by the banks of the Amur River ; but
now, on the afternoon of January 11, the piled-up masses
of ice which obstructed our course on the river told us that
we were approaching the place of the meeting of the waters
of its two constituents, the Argun and the Shilka. Leaving
the little village of Ust Strilka away to the left, we passed
up the mouth of the Shilka, and at length turned our backs
on the Celestial Empire, along whose boundary line we had
been travelling now for nearly fifteen hundred miles.

With the change of river we experienced an entire
change of scenery. Thickly wooded lofty hills sloped up-
wards from the very brink of the river, so that in many
places long cuttings had had to be made in the forest to
allow of the erection of the telegraph line. Signs of life
were fewer here than in the desolate regions through
which we had been passing; and even where the river was
for a brief space tortuous, the hilly banks and absence of
anything approaching the similitude of a road prevented
the possibility of short cuts, and kept us rigorously to the
icy highway. :
THE CARDINAL SINS 17I

We feared that further troubles were in store for us;
for in a few miles we should enter the region of the ‘ Seven
Cardinal Sins’— seven post-stations so known to old
Siberian travellers by reason of their proverbial discomforts
and the impossibility of obtaining at them even the bare
necessities of life. It was half-past four on the morning of
the Russian New Year’s Eve when we arrived at Utesna, the
first of the Seven Sins; and here at length we came up
level with the military officer with whom we had been racing.
Early as it was, he rose at once on our arrival, greeted us,
and ordered the only available post-horses ; for although
there were three troikas at the station, a post was expected
and they refused to let the third three horses go. We expos-
tulated vehemently, and our military friend came to our
assistance ; but whether he was really very solicitous on
our behalf I am now much inclined to doubt. Under
ordinary circumstances he was a mild-mannered man, with
a terrible cough—a cough which, when it once fairly com-
menced, did not ‘let up’ for even a second, till man and
cough were both exhausted. Travelling by day over ice
and snow packed with four others in a vashok, almost her-
metically sealed, and sleeping by night in overheated post-
stations, seemed scarcely the regimen best suited for his
complaint.

But presently something went wrong in the station-
master’s arrangements, and the colonel soon made it evi-
dent that neither his energy nor the power of his lungs
was seriously injured. The unfortunate starosta seemed
ready to sink into his shoes as the officer paced up and
172 ALBAZIN TO STRETENSK

down the guest-room raging and anathematising. The fit
lasted, too, even longer than his coughing bouts ; and mean-
time my comrade and I were vainly endeavouring to make
up arrears of sleep. Presently a servant entered, and in
removing the samovar, sent a little shower of water splash-
ing in my faceasI lay upon the floor. Just then a traveller
entered, and threw down all his furs on Uren’s prostrate
body. His apologies were profuse; but my companion and
I abandoned for the time all attempts to sleep. And it was
fortunate we did, for we discovered that the new-comer was
travelling eastward ; and though it is contrary to Government
rules for returning horses to take passengers, alittle palm-
oil smoothed the way, and soon after daylight we were once
more on the road, only some eight or ten miles behind the
vashok.

The ‘Seven Cardinal Sins’ scarcely deserve to-day
their evil reputation. Some of them have surely been re-
built, for we found them among the roomiest and most com-
fortable stations we had yet encountered. Food was certainly
very difficult to procure; but as in winter one carries his
provisions with him, this would have mattered little but for
the fact that we were anxious to make all possible speed, and
viands solidified by ninety degrees of frost take time when
fires are low to bring into an edible condition. The horses,
too, were small and feeble, and the rate of progress was
anything but fast.

It was nearing midday when the Second Sin was reached,
and we were getting hungry; but even black bread was
denied us, and milk was here an unknown luxury. At
A CHINESE TRAVELLER 173

the end of another stage, however, we procured some sour
black bread, and, by thawing lumps of preserved butter
on the samovar, we managed to make a meal which was
satisfying at least, if not very appetising. Making only one
more halt at nightfall to thaw out some chunks of frozen
soup, we pushed on in chase of our military friend, and at
length near midnight we had the satisfaction of coming
upon the vashok drawn up in the station yard of the Fifth
Cardinal Sin. We were quite content to leave the family in
undisturbed possession of the guest-room, and to remain in
the yemshiks’ quarters, with their wives and children sleep-
ing around us, while fresh horses were harnessed to our sledge.
For nearly eight hundred miles we had been travelling in
the wake of this officer and his family; but we had at
length got past them, and were to be troubled by them no
more. Indeed, though we did not yet realise our good for-
tune, our difficulties in the way of getting horses were al-
most at anend. There were plenty of other little troubles
in store for us; but henceforth hoxses, though variable in
quality, were nearly always to be had in any numbers.
Staying for a while at the next station to take our early
morning meal of tea and biscuits, we encountered a Chinese
merchant and a Russian who were travelling together to-
wards Albazin. The Chinaman was delighted to find that
my companion could speak his native language, and he soon
commenced a shower of questions as to the welfare of the
Celestial Empire and the effects which had followed upon
its recent war with France. He was, he told us, a native

of Shan-hai-kwan, and had established himself as a merchant
Mi
174 ALBAZIN TO STRETENSK

at Chita. Accustomed as were my companion and myself
to the rigorous line which divides the social lives of Chinamen
and Englishmen in Hongkong and the treaty ports of China,
we could not help noticing the very intimate terms which
appeared to subsist between the Chinaman and his Russian
fellow-traveller, who seemed to be a merchant of some
standing. It is one of the secrets of Russian success in
Central Asia that the Slav—perhaps on account of the Tatar
blood in him, which is ever to be found by scratching—is
readier than the Saxon to overstep socially the boundary
line which is too apt to separate the ‘ white man’ from the
coloured.

By daylight we had left the last of the Cardinal Sins
behind, and were once more sledging through a com-
paratively thickly populated region, Round every post-
station was a village of at least two dozen houses. Food,
too, was plentiful. At Shilkina we obtained a really ex-
cellent basin of cabbage soup from the family pot. It was
the Russian New Year’s Day, and it may be that a few
extra ingredients had been put into the national dish in
honour of the occasion; anyhow, plentifully seasoned as
it was with the sauce of hunger, it seemed as excellent a
dish as could possibly be set before a traveller.

The little town of Stretensk presented a pretty and a
peculiarly welcome sight as we approached it on the follow-
ing morning. Its population scarcely entitles it to rank
as anything more than a village, even among the sparsely
inhabited townships of Eastern Siberia; but, being built on
the pattern of a mathematical line along the right bank of

 
STRETENSK 175

the Shilka, it presents from the river the appearance of
quite a large and thriving city. It derives its importance
from the fact that it is situated at the utmost limit of steam
navigation on the great central waterway of Asia. From
here during the summer the little steamers start which
make their way to the Pacific coast at Nikolaefsk. Had
we chosen the summer for our journey, we should only
now have commenced our experience of the great posting
system of Siberia, instead of having accomplished nearly
half our posting journey.

As a port of navigation, Stretensk naturally boasts an
hotel, where we were able to obtain a room for our brief
stay. It measured some twelve feet square, and of this
limited space scarcely less than a quarter was occupied by
the great brick stove. The furniture consisted of a single
narrow wooden bench, intended for a bedstead ; two chairs,
two pieces of chintz attached to the window-frames with
twine, and a row of hatpegs.

Rough as this accommodation was, however, we revelled
in the unwonted luxury of an undisturbed night’s repose
between the four walls of a well-warmed room. For
sledging day and night, obtaining only snatches of sleep in
the open air of frosty nights, however novel and exhilara-
ting an experience, tends after a time to become somewhat
monotonous and fatiguing, even when the course winds
along the smooth ice of a magnificent river. The cold,
too, had now reached its greatest intensity. A spirit
thermometer exposed in the town on the previous night
had registered 42° Réaumur of frost, equal to —62}°
176 ALBAZIN TO STRETENSK

Fahrenheit, or 944 degrees of frost ; and there is no reason
to doubt that on the river where we had spent the night
the cold had been no less severe than in the town.

We allowed ourselves four-and-twenty hours to explore
the town and recruit our energies; and our brief stay was
made pleasant to us by the discovery of a friend in Mr.
Timm, a German merchant to whom we brought a note of
introduction from a friend in Vladivostok. We were un-
expectedly cheered, too, by the sound of our own language ;
for, havinz sallied forth in search of the telegraph station,
we noticed an official with flashes of forked lightning
representcd on his silvered buttons, and, rightly judging
him to be a telegraphist, we inquired our way in the best
Russian we could command, and were surprised at receiv-
ing an answer in the English language. The Stretensk
telegraph office proved to be a transmitting station, and as
such it necessarily had attached to it an English-speaking
clerk. The operators were hard at work in the office when
we entered, and my companion, who could readily gather
the meaning of the messages by listening to the clicking
of the instrument, obtained some important news which
was passing along the wire to an English merchant in
Japan. Professional etiquette prevented him from impart-
ing the news to me; but the incident enlightened us as
to the ease with which anyone familiar with the Morse
alphabet might tap the wires in Siberia were it worth his
while.

The streets of Stretensk offered little to attract the eye
beyond the one great wooden church with its customary
BORSH AND PILMENIES 177

pointed dome and numerous crosses with their triple
transverse beams; but the numerous Teutonic names which
could be distinguished throngh the Russian characters over
the windows of the shops showed how far inland the
German influence had extended. Soon after noon on the
day succeeding our arrival we repacked our sledge and
started off once more, having replenished our stock of
provisions with a supply of two noted Russian delicacies,
borsh and pilménies. Borsh is a curiously flavoured species
of thick soup, and pilménies are little meat patties of about
the diameter of a halfpenny or a penny, which, when
frozen, may be reduced to an edible condition by merely
being thrown into hot soup or boiling water. The borsh
was brought to us in the form of a single lump of muddy-
looking ice which had the appearance of having been set
out to freeze in a bucket. We had subsequently to reduce
it to a more manageable condition by chopping it to pieces
with an axe. When thawed and boiled the borsh proved
nourishing and filling; but there was a certain twanginess
of flavour that was not altogether agreeable, and the
pilménies proved both doughy and insipid. Often did
we regretfully remember the bag of excellent provisions
(now emptied of all but a remnant of the joint of beef,
which we carried with us as a relic to Tiumen) with which
we had been provided by our friends at Blagovestchensk.
CHAPTER XI

STRETENSK TO VERKHNE UDINSK

The shallow Shilka—An infantile yemshik—In a snowdrift—A novel
‘equipage ’—Nerchinsk—A millionaire’s palace—Chita—A snowless
tract—Siberian fires—Tarantas travelling—A convict train—An
attack on the post—Double murder and robbery—The Yablonoi
Mountains—Our sledge again—The shrine on the mountains—A
smash—The land of the Buriats—The tarantas once more—A long
cold ride—Through the woods—The Uda River—Verkhne Udinsk.

A spin of sixty miles up the Shilka brought us to Nerchinsk,
the ancient capital of the Trans-Baikal Province. In
summer the shallowing of the waters compels the traveller
westward-bound to take to the road at Stretensk; but
there is in winter quite sufficient water to form a smooth
ice road, and up this we sledged. Parties of travellers were
frequently met; for there is a pretty constant stream of
traffic between Nerchinsk and Stretensk, and we had been
advised that the difficulty of obtaining post-horses here
would be so great that it would be to our advantage to make
a bargain with some private horse-owner in Stretensk to
transport us from one town to the other. Siberia has, how-
ever, to some slight extent, moved forward with the times.
Except in the Amur Province and the Littoral, the posting
service has been improved wherever the traffic has increased.
INTO A SNOWDRIFT 179

With the exception of one delay of half a dozen hours, the
only difficulty with horses which we experienced on the
road to Nerchinsk was when we obtained the services of a
driver over whose head scarce twelve exceedingly short
summers had passed.

The Siberian system of harnessing is one which neces-
sitates frequent descents from the box-seat to remedy
defects. Our little driver was so small that after each
of his periodical descents for this purpose he experienced
the greatest possible difficulty in climbing back into his
seat, and his troubles were enhanced by the fact that
Siberian horses rarely wait till the yemshik is on the box
before they gallop off. In the course of one of the boy’s
oft-recurring struggles to reseat himself, the horses swerved
off the road and plunged into a deep bank of drifted snow,
from which, without assistance, extrication proved quite
impossible. Fortunately we were near the end of the stage.
A walk of a few hundred yards brought us to a_post-
station, and here we quietly dined while waiting till the
sledge and its contents were in some manner dragged out
and brought in safety to the station door.

At one station we noticed a novelty in the way of
“equipages,’ as the Russians call all passenger vehicles. It
was a large vashok or inclosed sledge through the roof of
which an iron chimney projected. Its owner, who was
travelling with his wife, was evidently a man of some im-
portance, for servants followed behind him in a sledge open
in front like our own. But we did not feel in the least
inclined to envy him his stove. The atmosphere inside
180 STRETENSK TO VERKHNE UDINSK

that tight-closed box with its fireplace can scarcely have
compared favourably with the clear bracing air, however
cold, outside. But its owner compelled our respect, for
he was the first Siberian who had yet refused a petit verre
of cognac from our flask. His account of the road before
us was anything but cheerful. The ways beyond Chita
were, he told us, very rough and quite devoid of snow; and
the transport of our sledge would prove no easy matter.

Early next morning we turned sharp round to the rigltt
up the Nercha, a northern tributary of the Shilka, and
soon came in sight of the important town of Nerchinsk
stretching away on its left bank.

Nerchinsk, founded in 1658, some twenty years before
Chernigovski set up his camp at Albazin, is one of the oldest
Russian towns in the whole of Eastern Siberia. Like Albazin,
however, though in a less degree, its glories have to a great
extent departed. The seat of government of the province has
been transferred to Chita; and its wooden houses, albeit of
a more pretentious style than any which the westward-
bound traveller will have seen, have an aspect of decay
about them. Nerchinsk, however, still boasts one great
glory, the palace of M. Bootin, the millionaire and philan-
thropist of Siberia, the owner of gold mines who presses
nuggets upon his visitors as parting gifts. I did not visit
M. Bootin, but a notice of Nerchinsk, however brief, which
did not contain an account of his famous mansion, would
be like the proverbial play with the title-rdle omitted.

M. Edmond Cotteau, who visited M. Bootin in the
summer of 1881, describes his mansion as ‘a magnificent
A SIBERIAN PALACE 181

dwelling, a reminiscence of M. Bootin’s travels, into which
he has put something of every style. The architecture is
bizarre, and of questionable taste. The exterior view shows
only battlemented walls pierced with Gothic windows,
Renaissance portals, Byzantine facades flanked with Arab
towers, the whole, in white stone, presenting the appear-
ance of some fairy fortress. Nevertheless the ensemble is
majestic. This enormous mass, rising on one side of a vast,
bare and deserted space, and dominating in all its pride
the poor constructions of wood which surround it, is of a
really imposing effect. The interior is not less singular.
It contains a sumptuous dwelling-house, magnificent salons,
a theatre, a printing-office, shops, offices, magazines, and
warehouses of merchandise, and lastly a vast library and
collections of every kind. A beautiful garden, adorned
with statuary and perfectly kept, with fountains, artificial
grottoes, a labyrinth, conservatories, masses of flowers and
shrubs, all show what can be done in this country by a man
intelligent and rich. A parterre has been reserved for the
culture of flowers which grow naturally in the neighbouring
fields, and this is not the least resplendent. It is the
only garden worthy of the name which I saw in Siberia.’
Staying at Nerchinsk only long enough to change our
tired horses, we redescended the Nercha River to its Junction
with the Ingoda, and, ascending the latter stream, scudded
along a thirty-mile stage at a rattling gallop. It was the
longest stage we had yet encountered ; but with good horses
and a capital yemshik we succeeded in covering the distance
in a trifle over three hours, a time which had sometimes
182 STRETENSK TO VERKHNE UDINSK

been excéeded on a stage of scarcely more than half the
length. Once an obstruction on the road nearly overturned
the sledge; but the outrigger saved us. The driver was
thrown completely off the box; but he kept a tight hand
on the reins, and, though the horses scarcely relaxed their
gallop, he managed, encumbered as he was with furs, to
regain his seat and continue the journey without even
stopping to shake himself together.

Our river travelling was now rapidly drawing to an end.
For more than two thousand miles we had been sledging
almost continuously along the Amur or its tributaries; but
from Chita onwards our course was to be over roads which
within the memory of man can surely have never been sub-
jected to any species of repair. Nor was this the worst of
our difficulties. For some reason, unexplained so far as I
can ascertain by meteorologists, all snow-clouds religiously
avoid the town of Chita and its vicinity ; consequently it is
alraost always necessary for the traveller to here discard his
sledge and resign himself to the discomforts of tarantas
travelling. As we neared Chita we ascertained more
clearly at every step that we were not to escape the common
fate. The fallen snow grew thinner and thinner till the hills
about the river were almost bare ; and at every post-station
as we ascended the bank, our runners grated painfully over
sand and stone.

It was long past midnight on the third day of our
journey from Stretensk when we arrived at the capital of
the Trans-Baikal Province. The post-station of Chita was
away in the centre of the town, far from the edge of the
HOUSE-WARMING 183

river ; and the task of dragging the heavy sledge along the
snowless streets proved so severe a strain upon our tired
horses that humanity compelled us to alight and tramp.

The rest of the night was occupied in preparations for
the altered conditions under which we were now to travel.
After much bargaining the station-master undertook to
provide us with three extra horses to drag our empty sledge
some thirty miles over the snowless tract; and a large
heavy tarantas, with a hood to protect us from the wind,
was brought forth and loaded with our baggage.

Long before our preparations were completed, the day
dawned, and clouds of blue smoke began to ascend from
every chimney in the town. Twice a day in all Siberian
towns and villages this curious sight is to be witnessed ;
but it is prettiest in the rosy hues of dawn. Almost simul-
taneously from every chimney the wreaths of pale blue
smoke from the wood fires begin to curl upward; then
gradually they die away, and till the approach of evening
the air remains perfectly clear. For somewhere about
dawn and dusk are the hours of stoking. Piles of huge
wood-logs are then heaped up in the vast stoves and fired.
When they have ceased to smoke the chimncy is closed,
vent-holes leading into the rooms are opened, and the air
heated by passing over the mass of glowing embers within
the stove is allowed to enter freely into the house. Be-
tween these two periods of the day the stoves are seldom
replenished, and the traveller who arrives at a post-svation
when the fires are low often finds it extremely difficult to
obtain a meal.
184 STRETENSK TO VERKHNE UDINSK

Three hours later we were once more under way, seated
on the top of our baggage and rattling in a tarantas through
the broad streets of Chita. The town was almost a fac-
simile of those through which we had passed farther east,
though a slightly better finish and a little more ornamenta-
tion about the fronts of the houses marked our advance
towards civilisation. Our revolvers were within easy reach
on our waist-belts, for the station-master of Chita had
warned us with a scared face that highwaymen were abroad,
a murderous attack having been made on the post a few
hours before.

Soon after leaving the town we met a small party of
convicts, among whom were two women, trudging along
under the escort of two soldiers with fixed bayonets. Sub-
sequently we met some two or three larger bodies of convicts
travelling eastwards under guard of considerable numbers
of soldiers ; and once or twice in the early mornings we saw
them trooping out in shoals from the étapes or temporary
prisons set up as resting-places for them on their journey.
They always appeared warmly clothed, and they were
generally accompanied by a few rough sledges in which the
sick and weakly rode. Miserable as was their condition,
and dreadful doubtless as was the prospect before them,

_ they yet found spirit to join their voices in singing as they

marched along.

Arrived at the first station a scene of intense excitement
reminded us of the warning we had received at Chita.
Within the house a civil officer dressed in the uniform of a
police master was engaged in earnest conversation with a
MAIL ROBBERY AND MURDER 185

number of villagers, among whom was one whose long
black cloak and hair falling to below the shoulders pro-
claimed him a priest of the national religion. Outside,
men on horseback were rushing to and fro, and an excited
crowd had gathered to see what was going forward. Pro-
ceeding in another tarantas we soon made a wide détour to
avoid a spot upon the road where two dead horses were
lying; and subsequently we gathered bit by bit the details
of the occurrence which had caused this unusual excitement.

On the previous day, as two tarantases conveying the
mails were passing along the road under guard of two
yemshiks and a postman, two men with masked faces,
splendidly mounted, galloped up and fired at the post-
horses, killing two of them, and thus bringing the waggons
to a stand. Among the mail-bags was one containing a
quantity of raw gold from the Siberian mines, to the value,
we were told, of many thousands of roubles. One of the
ruffians accosted the postman, and pointing a revolver at
his head demanded this bag. The postman, being also
armed, drew his own revolver and snapped it at his
assailant, but without effect, as the striking point of the
hammer had been at some previous period carefully filed
down by an accomplice of the robbers. The other masked
man then called out to his companion, ‘What are you .
talking to him for? Shoot him,’ and the postman was at
once shot dead. A yemshik was also shot, but whether he
was killed outright or only wounded we did not clearly
ascertain. The robbers then seized the mail-bags containing

the gold and made off with it. The whole outrage had been
18
186 STRETENSK TO VERKHNE UDINSK

so carefully planned, and showed so intimate a knowledge
of the facts connected with the transport of the gold, that
suspicion at once fell upon the post-office officials, one of
whom, a Jew, was arrested on suspicion of complicity ; but
up to the time we left Irkutsk the actual assassins had not
been arrested, though a cordon of soldiers was drawn round
the district for the purpose of preventing their escape.

_ Before nightfall we had arrived at a village at the foot
of the little range of hills known as the Yablonoi Mountains,
and here we found our sledge waiting for us beside the
station door. The starosta, as was often the case, was
represented by a small boy, who insisted that it was im-
possible for us to proceed in our sledge; and finally after
some wrangling we agreed to put up for the night and
await the station-master’s return. The motion of a sledge
is luxury compared with the jolting of a springless waggon
over rough, frozen roads; and we felt quite grateful for a
little difficulty in the way of our proceeding which afforded
us a reasonable excuse for taking a night’s rest stretched
out on the post-station floor with our knapsacks of money
under our heads, our baggage lying around us, and, mind-
ful of the Chita station-master’s warning, our loaded
revolvers at hand. In the middle of the night I was dis-
_turbed by a noise, and on opening one eye I found that
it was caused by the entrance of two travellers; but, as
there was nothing particularly bloodthirsty about their
appearance, I added my snores to those of my companion
and left our worldly goods at their mercy.

Though most Siberian travellers go armed against
AN OPENING FOR STATION SNEAKS 187

robbers on the road, thefts at the post-stations must be
comparatively rare, judging by the reckless manner in
which passengers leave their property lying loose around
them while they sleep. At one station in the midst of a
big town a man lay sleeping on a couch in the guest-room
into which we were ushered, with his. watch and chain and
a number of other small articles lying on a table near him.
Open bags were strewn all over the guest-room floor, and
although there were two of his fellow-passengers in the
room they too were fast asleep, and had a thief entered the
station he would have had no difficulty in pocketing an
amount of ‘swag’ which would have kept him in affluence
for a week or two.

The next morning our difficulty with the station-master
was easily smoothed by a little extra payment, and we were
soon once more comfortably ensconced in the old sledge and
winding slowly up the hillside. The layer of snow was
still so thin that the traffic on the highway had left the
sandy road quite bare, and for the most part we made our
way through narrow, winding by-paths cut through the
thick wood. The summit of the pass over the little moun-
tain range—the highest point of land we touched during
our whole sledge journey—was marked by a small shrine,
in front of which the yemshik descended and religiously
crossed himself before proceeding.

Just after we had left the mountains behind, we were
delayed once more by one of the many annoying accidents
which try the patience of Siberian travellers. Halfway
between two stations the band of iron underlying one of the
188 STRETENSK TO VERKHNE UDINSK

runners broke in two and curled up in a bunch beneath the
sledge. We dismounted, and the yemshik, with the assist-
ance of a peasant who was passing with a caravan of hay
sledges, propped up our sledge and tore off the iron with
his axe. At the next village it was quickly welded together
and replaced by a Buriat blacksmith.

For we were now in the midst of the Buriat country.
Our yemshiks, and many even of the station-masters, were
members of that dark-skinned Mongol race. For the most
part the Buriats of Siberia have now become pretty
thoroughly Russianised. Their old tent-like dwellings,
with a hole in the roof for the smoke to escape by, are
but rarely seen, the Russian log-houses having taken their
places; and even their dress is scarcely distinguishable
from that of their Sclavonic fellow-subjects.

At the village of Pogrominsk next morning we were
offered an unaccustomed luxury in the shape of eggs.
They had apparently been cooked and then frozen, and
the process of thawing had not been very perfectly accom-
plished. They were served up in a dish of cold water, and
altogether there was little about their flavour to remind
us of the English new-laid egg or the lay of the noble bird
of Shanghai; but with appetites whetted by the bracing
frosty air we disposed of a goodly number, and packed away
a further stock for future use. As we proceeded, the snow
under the sledge gradually thinned once more, and a few
miles farther on we had again to take to the tarantas.

Although it wanted yet an hour or two of midday
when we arrived at the station where the change was to
TARANTAS TRAVELLING 189

be made, a’ family rejoicing appeared to be at its height,
and the vodka had evidently been circulating freely. We
received a cordial invitation from the lady of the house,
who was by no means the least elated of the party, to join
in the festivity. But we resisted all her blandishments,
and succeeded at length in striking a bargain by which our
sledge should be dragged empty for two stages, while we
proceeded by tarantas.

Having packed our luggage in the little hooded waggon,
and with difficulty stretched ourselves out upon our traps,
we composed ourselves to bear with as much patience as
possible the diseomforts of tarantas travelling. Though
the thermometer had risen perhaps twenty degrees since
we left Stretensk, a keen wind blowing straight in our
teeth, and piercing the crazy hood which was our only pro-
tection against it, caused us, almost for the first time, to
realise thoroughly the rigour of a Siberian winter. Cramped
in the comfortless vehicle, rattling and bumping over a
hard rough road for weary hour after hour, with the dreary
prospect of unpacking and repacking our baggage at each
station, we, not quite for the first time, felt just a shadow
of an inclination to regret the infatuation which had in-
duced us to prefer this mode of travelling home to the
comforts and luxuries of a mail-steamer.

At length, however, our miseries were at an end. At
midnight we arrived at the little village of Oninsk, soothed
by the comforting reflection that snow and ice would never
again fail us till we reached the land of railways. Since
our breakfast of eggs in the morning, fifteen hours before,
I90 STRETENSK TO VERKHNE UDINSK

our only refreshment had been a glass of milk and a slice
of black bread; but a pair of rabchicks were soon thawed
and brought in smoking hot, and in little more than an
hour we were once more in our sledge.

Our road now lay through a beautiful country, cutting
frequently through extensive forests of pines and silver
birches, looking exceedingly beautiful
in their winter coats of snow and

By.

“a
A

 

hoar-frost. Since leaving the river
at Chita we had once more had
the verst-posts with us, the curious
poles painted in- broad diagonal
bands of white and black—the sign-
manual of the Russian Government
—and serving the purpose of mile-
stones, marking the distances to the
nearest station in either direction.
At the stations, too, the posts would
sometimes tell the distances to im-
portant towns—to Irkutsk or to
Petersburg; and though there was something rather appal-
ling in the staring announcement that we were some eight
thousand versts from our goal, there was a satisfaction also in
noting the impression we had already made upon the figures.

At the little town of Koorbinska we once more took to
river travelling, gliding over the winding course of the Uda,
a little tributary of the Selenga, which in its turn falls into
the Baikal Sea. The Uda had evidently succumbed to the
frost at a period anterior to the most recent fall of snow.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
ICE LIKE BOTTLE-GLASS IgI

Not a speck of white disturbed the glassy smoothness of its
surface, and so clear had been the water that one could
follow the numerous cracks and flaws in the ice downwards
for several feet. The horses seemed scarcely to feel the
sledge behind them as they galloped, and though the official
posting road cut across the banks to avoid the windings of
the river, the yemshiks preferred to add several miles un-
paid for to their journey in order to obtain the advantage of
the smooth ice course. At last, at midnight on the 21st,
six days after starting from Stretensk, we completed a stage
of thirty-two miles—the longest we had yet accomplished
without changing horses—drew up at the post-station at
Verkhne Udinsk, and put into dock for repairs.
CHAPTER XII
AOROSS THE BAIKAL TO IRKUTSK

Verkhne Udinsk—The Kiakhta road—Maimaichin and Urga—An
infant starosta—A day of rest—House sparrows—The starosta in
trouble—The Selenga—Freight caravans—Pitfalls—Nearing the
Baikal—Kabansk—A little Siberian traveller—Mishikhinsk—Over -
the Baikal— Icy caves—Ominous fissures—The wreck of a post-sta-
tion—Mock suns—Listvinichnaya—A wilderness of freight sledges
—The customs siation—A two hours’ block—An unappetising
supper—Rough travelling—A glorious sunrise—English literature
in Siberia—Irkutsk.

Verxune, or Upper, Udinsk, is the second town of the Trans-

Baikal Province, its population being slightly in excess of

that of Nerchinsk, though scarcely more than a third of the

12,000 which Chita, the capital, boasts. There are just a

few stone-built houses in its principal street; and the

numbers of Chinese and Buriats who throng its market-
place give it an appearance more Oriental than that of any
other important town throughout Siberia. For here we are
at the junction of the two great highways of Northern Asia.

Southward stretches the road to Kiakhta, Maimaichin,

Urga, the Mongolian capital, and Peking, the metropolis of

China. Kiakhta, the great frontier mart of Siberia, is just

over a hundred miles from Verkhne Udinsk, and opposite it
URGA 193

on the Chinese side of the boundary line stands Maimaichin,
the mournful town where by Chinese law no woman is
allowed to live. Merchants may exile themselves for love
of gain or with a patriotic desire to extend the commerce of
their country, but they may not have their wives and chil-
dren with them. Another hundred miles and more beyond
Kiakhta is the Mongolian capital, Urga, where one may
have the satisfaction of gazing upon a living, breathing
god—the Supreme Lama or incarnate Buddha of the
Mongols’ worship.

When starting from Vladivostok we had promised our-
selves the pleasure of a meeting with this divinity ; but by
the time we had arrived at Verkhne Udinsk we had come to
the conclusion that a winter trip across Siberia was a quite
sufficient undertaking in itself without superadding excur-
sions into countries of whose resources we could learn but
little. The great Siberian postal system stops, of course,
at Kiakhta, and beyond there we should have been at the
mercy of the Mongols, with an uncertainty of obtaining
horses or camels or places to rest in when we required
them. We therefore gave up the trip, interesting as a
glimpse of the Holy City would have been. We could, how-
ever, to some extent compensate ourselves for the loss of the
interesting sights that we had surrendered by reflecting on
the description given of the city by the Rev. James Gilmour
of the London Mission. ‘Urga,’ Mr. Gilmour tells us, ‘is
the headquarters of the Buddhism of North Mongolia ; it is
also a stronghold of unblushing sin. Its wickedness does not
spring from any one source, but the full tide of the stream
194 ACROSS THE BAIKAL TO IRKUTSK

of iniquity that rolls through it is fed by several tributaries
which uniting make up the dark flood of its evil. Thus it
happens that the encampment of the Supreme Lama of
Mongolia is reputed to be the most wicked place in the
whole of that wide country.’

On our arrival at the Verkhne Udinsk station its only
occupants were four or five little birds and a boy of twelve
or thereabouts, who, in response to our demand to see the
stazosta, replied like a little grand monarque, ‘ The starosta!
Iam the starosta.’ We felt dubious, but entrusted him
with a commission to find a blacksmith to repair our broken
sledge. We were detained some sixteen hours for repairs ;
and I sorrowfully confess that instead of employing the
time in exploring the interesting town at which we had arrived
we yielded to tired nature and spent the hours reclining in
the guest-room at, the post-station, sleeping or reading
English novels from the little library we carried with us,
and watching our fellow-occupants the sparrows, who seemed
not in the least disconcerted by our presence.

At eight in the evening the sledge, with two strong new
iron runners, stood harnessed at the door, and was soon
repacked. Our young starosta had meanwhile somewhat
impaired his dignity by allowing himself to be caught
frightening his little sister with our fire-arms and tumbling
downstairs with our baggage; and when he finally inter-
rupted his duties to fight another little boy in the post-
station yard, we set him down as a fraud. However, our
arrival and departure were apparently duly noted in the
books, our podorozhnaya was returned to us, and before nine
FREIGHT CARAVANS 195

o’clock we were careering along a roughly made road cut
high up in the steep southern bank of the Sélenga River.

A new source of trouble and difficulty was now opened
to us. We had entered upon the great tea road of Russia.
The subjects of the Tsar are, as everybody knows, among
the greatest tea-drinkers in the world, almost rivalling the
Chinese themselves in their love of the beverage. Every
year many millions of pounds of tea are brought overland
from China by way of Kiakhta, the bulk of it coming in
winter in caravans of sledges to Tomsk, where it awaits the
opening of navigation to be conveyed by steamer and rail-
way to the Moscow market. From the time we left Verkhne
Udinsk till we arrived at Tomsk, never a day passed that
we did not overtake several of these caravans, numbering
from thirty or forty to upwards of two hundred sledges, each
drawn by a single horse, and laden with tea chests sewn up
in raw hide. In the opposite direction, too, come similar
caravans laden with European and Siberian merchandise
of every description. The allowance of drivers is about one
to every ten or twelve sledges, and at night most of these
drivers curl up to sleep somewhere amid the merchandise
in their sleighs and allow their beasts to meander along the
road at their own sweet will.

It is a peculiarly interesting sight to watch a series of
these caravans winding along the road in front when the
lay of the country enables the traveller to see far ahead ;
and in the case of the eastward-bound caravans one finds
occupation in examining the merchandise which lies exposed
in the sledges, and speculating upon the contents of chests
196 ACROSS THE BAIKAL TO IRKUTSK

and packages which display no outward sign of the nature of
the riches within. But soon one finds that the annoyance
and trouble which these caravans cause far outbalance their
picturesqueness or their interest. In the middle of the night
one is awoke from sleep by the crashing of the sledge against
one obstacle after another, and the yelling and cursing of
yemshiks ; and on looking out he finds himself in the midst
of a crowd of unguided sleighs which have strayed all across
the road, leaving no clear passage. If he escapes without
damage to his sledge or his person he is fortunate, for many
of the posting conveyances are rather easily upset in spite of
their guardian outriggers.

To add to our difficulties in this first stage from Verkhne
Udinsk, the narrow road high up in the steep cliff of the
Selenga was full of deep pits, in which our sledge half buried
itself, and from which it was with difficulty dragged. On
our right there was in many places no palisade or protec-
tion of any kind between us and the precipitous descent to
the river; and in one of our numerous collisions we came
perilously near driving the leading sledge of a caravan, to-
gether with the horse and attendant driver, sheer down
the bank on to the ice, a couple of hundred feet below.

Many continuous weeks of severe frost are required to
harden the entire surface of the Baikal Sea; and as a rule
January is far advanced before the first sledge crosses over
its ‘unfathomable’ waters. Accordingly as we neared the
great lake we anxiously inquired, of travellers eastward
bound, as to the course by which they had come. At first
their reply was always disappointing. The sea was not yet
THE BAIKAL SEA 197

safely frozen, and they had been compelled to make the
long circuit of its southern shores. But at last, when we
were within one day’s journey of the sea, we learnt that,
though the route over the ice was not yet officially declared
open, one or two sledges had just crossed in safety, so that
though Government horses could not be taken over, it was
possible to procure private horses for the passage.

On the morning of Sunday, January 23, we breakfasted
at the little village of Kabansk, a few miles from the border
of the lake. We found the guest-room in possession of a
crowd of little boys and girls in their night-dresses—the
family of the starosta. For the station-master in Siberia
is, as a rule, as richly endowed with children as an English
curate. The youngsters soon scuttled out at our approach,
all except one very fat baby, who was so sociably inclined
that we felt disposed to take him home asa specimen of the
fauna of Siberia. Soon after leaving the village, we emerged
from a thickly wooded winding road into the open country,
and saw spreading out before us the broad expanse of ice
covering the Baikal Sea, with the high hills on its western
shores looming up through the clear air of a perfect Siberian
winter’s day. For many miles our course lay southwards
along the shores of the lake, occasionally cutting across a
bay upon the ice; the jagged masses which lay piled around
us and the roughness of the pathway under our runners
auguring badly for our short sea journey.

Night began to close in before we had arrived at Mishi-
khinsk, our port of departure across the sea; and as the

dangers of a night passage are more than even a Siberian
19
198 ACROSS THE BAIKAL TO IRKUTSK

yemshik cares to brave, we put up for the night at the post-
station cf Misovska, where we fell in with a little family
party of travellers, who put us considerably out of conceit
with our whole enterprise. They consisted of a young
Russian military officer, his wife, and their child, barely
two months old. Like ourselves they journeyed in an open
hooded sledge ; and they were bound to Khabarovka from
the Sea of Azov, whence they had started some five months
before. It wasa lesson to us. If in future days we felt in-
clined to plume ourselves upon the voyage we had made, all
that would be needed to bring ourselves to a fitting state of
humility was to think of the child we met on the Baikal
shores, who had commenced the voyage of his life in the
midst of this long, snowy journey, and of the mother, a
pretty woman, not delicate-looking, but yet of no extra-
ordinary physique, who had braved the rigours of such a
journey for herself and her unborn child.

By ten o’clock next morning, we. had arrived at Mishi-
khinsk, and a bargain was soon struck, by which, for ten
roubles, we were provided with three horses and a yemshik
to take us across the sea. Before starting the yemshik
provided himself with a stout pole, some six or eight feet
long, which he carefully strapped to the back of the sledge
ready for future use.

Along the shoresome exceedingly beautiful effects had been
produced by the frost. In early winter a quantity of broken
ice had collected on the edge of the sea, and the breakers,
dashing on this ice, had formed a succession of beautiful
miniature stalactite caves, from the roofs of which thousands
CRACKS IN THE ICE 199

of long icicles hung glittering in the sunlight. Occasionally
the winding course led over patches of very rough ice; but
for the most part the way was smooth enough, though
naturally it did not present the glassy surface of a snow-
less quiet river. Here and there long ridges of jagged ice
stretched away high above the level of the lake: but these
were insignificant compared with the stupendous icy masses
which we had seen piled up in ridges on the Khanka Lake,
raised by the fierce winds to which the eastern coast of Asia
is exposed.

Frequently an ominous crack could be seen winding
along the ice right across our path; and when these were
of dangerous width the yemshik would bring his horses to
a stand, and arming himself with his pole would approach
the edge of the fissure and carefully probe the newly formed
ice within it. On one occasion the result was so un-
satisfactory that we had to make a long détour from the
marked-out course, in order to find a safe place to
cross; and twice more the yemshik unharnessed one horse
and fastened it behind the sledge, so that in case of the
leaders breaking through into the water we should not be
left without resources by which to recover them.

It was a curious experience to lie back in our sledge,
watching these interesting performances and listening to .
the moaning of the waves beneath the ice—a strange,
somewhat melancholy sound, which always makes itself
heard through the rattling of the sledge and the clatter of
the horses’ hoofs. In the comparatively narrow part of
the sea between Mishikhinsk and Listvinichnaya one never
200 ACROSS THE BAIKAL TO IRKUTSK

loses sight of the hills which skirt the shores of the lake;
but when one is halfway across, the outlines of the hills
are sufficiently dim and distant to enable one to fully
realise that he is in the midst of a wide sea. To the north-
ward the ice stretches away clear to the horizon, while to
the south the dim blue peaks of distant hills can just be
discerned apparently closing it in. Formerly, we were
told, the ice route lay more to the north, where the sea is
broader, and a temporary halfway house was set up on
the ice where travellers could obtain refreshments. But
at the end of one winter a sudden thaw was accompanied
by aviolent storm; the house and its occupants disappeared
into the sea, and since then the crossing has been made in
a single stage.

But though there was no house of call, we drew up
somewhere near the spot where it should have been, alighted
from our sledge, and strolled about in the snowless expanse
of clear ice, which glistened in the bright sunlight. We
had not yet had an opportunity of witnessing the glories of
the aurora borealis as seen in Northern Asia, nor were
we subsequently favoured with this magnificent spectacle ;
but the interest of our journey across the Baikal was
enhanced by the sight of an atmospheric wonder scarcely
less interesting, if far less beautiful, than the aurora.
Early in the afternoon as the sun sank towards the horizon
it appeared to mark the centre of two immense concentric
circles of light, the inner brilliant and the outer comparatively
faint. On either side of the sun, on the circumference of
the inner circle, were two bright mock suns, which seemed
LISTVINICHNAYA 201

alternately to increase in brilliancy and then grow dim.
The strange appearance lasted till the sun sank nearly to
the horizon, and our yemshik was evidently awe-struck by
it, though whether the phenomenon is of frequent occur-
rence in this region we did not ascertain.

We had been sledging for a good four hours across
the sea, when at length the little port of Listvinichnaya came
in sight; and a few minutes later we glided past two little
steamers frozen up in the ice and rattled up the bank into
the one street of the town, stretching along the side of the
hills which rise sheer from the shores of the sea. Crossing
the lake we had met and passed numerous long caravans of
freight sledges winding along the route marked out on
either side by branches of trees stuck in the ice; but even
these did not prepare us for the extraordinary scene
which burst upon us at the little port. The street itself
was thronged with freight sledges, three deep, but in such
disorderly array that to clear the block seemed an almost
impossible task. Below, on the frozen sea, vast inclosures
had been formed by rough hurdles, and in these were
thousands of horses attached to similar sledges. Some
were tea caravans awaiting their turn to pass the customs
barrier situated on the outskirts of the port; but by far
the greater number were sledges laden with wares for sale
at Verkhne Udinsk fair.

With difficulty we made our way through the crowded
street to the post-station, where we were strongly advised
to put up for the night. The road from here to Irkutsk
was, we were told, exceedingly bad, and the enormous
202 ACROSS THE BAIKAL TO IRKUTSK

amount of extra traffic caused by the approaching Verkhne-
Udinsk fair would render travelling in the now moonless

nights almost a matter of impossibility. But we determined

to push on to the next station, and we were soon slowly

making our way up a steep hill amid freight sledges, till we

were brought to a stand by a bar thrown across the road

at the customs station.

Our arrival threw the whole customs staff into a state
of open-mouthed astonishment. That two Englishmen,
with only a rudimentary acquaintance with the Russian
language, should endeavour to make their way across
Northern Asia in mid-winter, with no special mission and
simply from motives of curiosity and a spirit of adventure,
appeared to them almost incredible. Two or three of them
were able to speak a few words of French and German,
and by these we were overwhelmed with questions.
‘Where are you?’ one of them suddenly asked, turning to
my companion ; and seeing we were puzzled at the ques-
tion he repeated, ‘Do you know where you are?’ My
companion opened a Russian chart, and pointing to the
position of Listvinichnaya reassured his inquirer’s troubled
mind, ‘Ob, it is all right,’ he said to a fellow-officer,
‘they know where they are;’ and after making a minute
search into our baggage they courteously wished us God-
speed, and having repacked our sledge we slowly got once
more under way. The only objects among our baggage
which seemed to arouse their suspicions were a package of
safety matches, and a bottle of patent medicine; but even
these were ultimately returned to us without any demand’
THE CUSTOMS BARRIER 203

for duty. Our books the officers turned over and peered
into; but as not one of them knew a word of English, the
most seditious publications might have passed their scrutiny.

We had scarcely got twenty yards from the customs
station before we were again pulled up. Along the rough
road, winding up the left bank of the Angara River, a
double line of freight sledges stretched away as far as we
could see. No rail protected us, and almost straight below
us clouds of vapour were rising from open water where the
lake debouches into the swift-flowing river, which at this
point even the rigour of a Siberian winter is unable to
bring entirely into subjection. The danger of a collision
on that precipitous path was too great to be faced; and
for more than two hours we sat watching caravan after
caravan pass us by on its way to the customs station. And
when at length the road cleared sufficiently to allow us a
passage our difficulties were by no means over. LEvery
few minutes we were blocked afresh in the midst of a new
caravan ; and when finally we arrived at the end of the
stage the woodwork in front of our sledge was hanging in
tatters from the effect of repeated collisions.

Here the station-master refused to give us horses to
proceed on such a night. The guest-room was crowded
with travellers—men, women, and children; but, consoling
ourselves with a meal of raw fish soaked in vinegar, and
sour black bread—the only food obtainable, as the fires
were out—we threw our furs on the one available corner
of the floor and resigned ourselves to sleep.

At four o’clock in the morning we were aroused by a
204. ACROSS THE BAIKAL TO IRKUTSK

commotion, and found that several of the travellers were
preparing to start. Fearful of being left without horses
we hastily repacked our sledge, and drove breakfastless
away, the last of a procession of three sledges. The leader
was a huge kachovka, or hoodless open sledge of rough
wood covered with matting. Heavily laden with a large
Russian family and their baggage, this clumsy vehicle con-
stantly came to grief in some deep hole in the villanous
road; and more than once a horse was unharnessed from
the second sledge to help it out of its difficulties. It is,
however, a rule of the road in the case of post-sledges that
one shall not pass by another which started before it; and,
although in some districts the rule is disregarded, here it
was so religiously observed that the entire procession was
delayed on the occasion of every separate mishap.

The same weary tale of struggles through the midst of
endless freight caravans, collisions, deadlocks, and smashes
continued, till at length, leaving the post-road, we made
our way through a narrow track in a dense wood. Crash-
ing over stumps of trees, bumping against tall trunks, and
scraping our way through deep snow, travelling sometimes
for miles on one runner and an outrigger, the mode of
progression was scarcely an improvement on the road-
travelling; but at dawn the marvellous beauty of the
scene through which we were passing more than com-
pensated us for the discomforts of our position. It was
one of the most splendid of the many gorgeous sunrises
which we witnessed during our long sledge journey.
Emerging from the wood we came on an undulating
A GLORIOUS SUNRISE 205

country more sparsely clothed with pines and silver birches.
In the clear morning air every minute twig of these
delicately formed birches, thickly covered with hoar-frost,
could be traced at an immense distance, while the snow
lay in thick masses on the pines and fir trees. In the first
rays of dawn, before the sun had appeared above the
horizon, the whole broad view as we drove along a little
ridge of hills presented a vision of unbroken whiteness ;
but as the splendours of the sunrise spread across the sky,
bright changing hues of violet and rose-colour and gold
chased each other over the entire landscape, till it pre-
sented the appearance of an etherealised fairy transforma-
tion scene lighted by coloured fires, such as no theatrical
manager has yet succeeded in producing.

By nine o’clock we had arrived at Patronovsk, the last
station before Irkutsk. No horses were obtainable till
noon; but we spent the time pleasantly enough in endea-
vouring to carry on a literary conversation in Russian with
an intelligent Siberian merchant, who, though unacquainted
with any language but his own, appeared to be well versed
by means of translations in the writings of the best English
authors, including Adam Smith, John Stuart Mill, Charles
Darwin, Thackeray, Byron, Scott, and Shakespeare. From
Patronovsk onwards the road was broad and well kept; and
early in the afternoon of the 25th of January we entéred

the ‘ Paris of Siberia.’
CHAPTER XIII

IRKUTSK TO TOMSK

The Paris of Siberia—The great fire—Ivan Pachaboff—A civilised
hotel—A Siberian vapour-bath--A corduroy road—The caravan
horse—A lost breakfast—Tulunovsk—Nizhni Udinsk—Siberian
roads —Damages and repairs—Sledgeraces—Krasnoyarsk—A kindly
Englishman— Western Siberia—A train of convicts—-Sleeping men’s
souls—An unexpected visitor—The worst road on recerd—Tomsk.

Tue Paris of Siberia! There was nothing very strikingly
Parisian about the miles of loghouses through which we
passed in our tattered sledge before we reached the centre
of Irkutsk. The houses, it is true, were comparatively
sound and trim; the outer roofs did not show great gaping
holes and rotting planks as did so many of the huts in the
villages through which we had daily passed, and here and
there among them was a two or three floored residence,
its eaves and window-frames elaborately ornamented with
carving, and signs of civilisation in the shapes of blinds
‘and curtains discernible through its double windows. As
we drew near to the heart of the town, tokens of wealth
and luxury grew more numerous: some of the houses were
quite imposing structures. Still, all were of wood, and we
began to think the pictures which had been drawn for our
CIVILISATION 207

edification by patriotic Siberians—for, strange as it may
appear, such creatures do exist—must have been highly
over-coloured. Suddenly, however, we turned a corner and
found ourselves in the midst of a scene of civilisation such
as we had not witnessed since setting foot on Russian soil.
Lofty, well-built houses of brick and stone skirted the
broad road; and behind the plate-glass windows of fine
shops were exposed goods of every kind, almost as rich and
as diversified as one may see in any great city of Western
Europe. Sledges
with beautiful
well - groomed

 

horses and glitter-
ing harness were
galloping along
the road, and
ladies paced the
sidewalks dressed
in furs of designs
which showed that
Parisian fashions are not neglected by the mantle-makers
of Irkutsk.

Soon we turned a corner and pulled up in the courtyard
of the Russian hotel. It was a large, though not a very
comfortable or well provided hostelry; but its accommo-

 

 

dation was palatial compared with that to which we had
for weeks been accustomed, and though we subsequently
discovered that Irkutsk boasts in the ‘ Moscow’ an hotel
which would do little discredit to Paris or London, we did
208 IRKUTSK TO TOMSK

not trouble to shift our quarters. Our couches were, it is
true, unencumbered with any other bed-clothing than a
rug or two; but sheets were a comfort we had learned to
do without, and as we had still some thousands of miles of
the roughest travelling before us, perhaps on the whole it
was well not to enervate ourselves with luxuries.

Having once more put our sledge into dock for repairs,
and having transformed ourselves from the travel-stained
unkempt savages of the road into comparatively civilised
beings, we sallied forth from the hotel, hailed an izvoshtchik,
chose one of the dozen sledges which came scampering up
to us from all directions, and drove through the town in
search of Mr. Barentzen, a Danish gentleman in the service
of the Russian Telegraphs, to whom we brought letters
of recommendation, and under whose kindly guidance we
subsequently inspected some of the architectural beauties
and places of interest in the town.

There were few if any easily recognisable traces to be
seen of the great fire which ravaged Irkutsk some seven
years before our visit, and from the effects of which it has
by no means yet recovered. In that fire, which broke out
on the 7th of July, 1879, 3,600 houses were consumed, as
well as ten churches, five bazaars, the great meat market,
and a host of public buildings. Of its thirty-four thousand
inhabitants, twenty thousand were rendered homeless, and
the damage has been estimated at three million roubles.
Dr. Henry Lansdell was at that time engaged upon his
tract and Bible distributing mission among the prisoners,
exiles, and peasants of Siberia; and good or evil fortune
THE GREAT FIRE OF IRKUTSK 209

brought him to Irkutsk on the very eve of this great fire.
He had scarcely settled down in his hotel before he was
compelled to move before the flames ; and, having witnessed
the conflagration from start to finish, he has been able to
place on record a reliable account of it. In the principal
street still stands the little Byzantine chapel whose escape
from the flames—very naturally to be accounted for by the
fact that the surrounding houses were of brick—is still
regarded as a miracle.

From the broad river Angdra, on the right bank of
which it stands, the city presents a striking appearance.
Like all Russian and Siberian towns of any size, it is
remarkably well provided with churches, the spires and
pointed domes of which, however ugly on a near approach,
render the distant view of the city picturesque and pleasing.
Though the mean temperature of Irkutsk is below freez-
ing point, and at the time of our visit—in the last week of
January—the thermometer registered always from twenty
to thirty degrees below zero, the town stands on just about
the same line of latitude as Birmingham. It is situated at
a bend of the Angara, where that river is joined by a little
tributary called the Usta Kofka, nearly opposite the mouth
of another little tributary, the Irkut, from which the city
takes its name. It dates its origin from 1652, when a
Cossack chief named Ivan Pachaboff erected a block-house
at the junction of the Irkut and the Angara. Around
Pachaboff’s wooden fort the fishermen and merchants, for
the sake of its protection, raised their houses, and in thirty

years the settlement had become of sufficient importance to
20
210 "IRKUTSK TO TOMSK

be dignified with the name of a town. In 1698 the inhabit-
ants successfully repulsed an attack by Buriats, and a coat
of arms was granted to the township. . It became the seat of
government of Eastern Siberia in 1783, in which year it
was ravaged by a fire nearly as disastrous as that of 1879.
The inhabitants do not seem to have taken the lesson of
these terrible fires very seriously to heart; for although the
main street and two or three leading from it are now built
of bricks or stone, all the rest of the houses, with the
exception of a few wealthy merchants’ residences, have been
rebuilt of wood. Great fires are not the only visitations
which the people of Irkutsk have to fear. The locality is
also very subject to earthquakes. The town has now a
population of some 40,000, of whom about two-thirds are
said to be Polish exiles or their descendants.

Irkutsk boasts a museum, a theatre, technical and
military schools and colleges, an institute for the daughters
of noblemen, and a free school of arts founded by a rich
merchant. It has a very active Geographical Society, which
regularly publishes its proceedings ; and altogether it is the
intellectual centre of Siberia, owing its ascendency in this
respect perhaps to its large admixture of Polish blood.
Citizens festively inclined resort in summer.to a little public
garden with a café amidst its trees; but at the time of our
visit this centre of mild dissipation was of course deserted.
At the Moscow Hotel, however, we found a goodly number
of officers in uniform and merchants making merry and
exercising themselves at billiards. In the spacious and
excellently appointed dining-room we were served with an
A SIBERIAN VAPOUR-BATH 211

admirable little diner a la carte, and in every respect we
found that the praises which had been bestowed upon the
hotel were thoroughly deserved.

One semi-public institution which we visited may per-
haps be worth a detailed description—the Russian bath-
house. It was only one of half a dozen or a dozen similar
establishments in the Eastern Siberian capital; but it was
recommended to us as decidedly the best of them. Every
Siberian town of any size, as well as every Russian town, has
its public vapour-bath. It consists generally of two separate
divisions—one embracing a general bath to which, for a few
kopeks apiece, a score or more of bathers may obtain admit-
tance and steam themselves together, and the other divided
into separate compartments in which, on payment of a con-
siderably higher but still very moderate fee, privacy may be
had. My first experience of the Russian bath had been
obtained at Vladivostok. This bath, which I visited with a
Russian friend, appeared to be well patronised, for we were
kept waiting a considerable time in an almost unfurnished
room amid quite a little crowd of men and women before
our turn came round. Then we were shown into a gloomy
little cell with rather more than a suspicion of griminess
about it, and only a very few degrees cooler than the bath
itself. Iwas glad to disarray myself as speedily as possible,
and then entering the bath itself, I found myself in a rather
larger and hotter, but no less gloomy cell, in the centre of:
which was a brick stove, wlule on one side were wooden
benches rising like steps to within a few feet of the ceiling,
and on the other a rough kind of lavatory, supplied with
212 IRKUTSK TO TOMSK

large wooden basins into which one could ladle hot or cold
water, the former from a huge receptacle upon the stove.
The air was already somewhat thick with steam, which,
rising to the ceiling, increased the temperature very per-
ceptibly for each step one mounted of the ascending flight
of benches ; but to increase the effect my companion dashed
a few bowls of water on the stove, and we were at once
enveloped in clouds of hot white vapour. Stretching our-
selves out on the benches, we reclined at ease until we felt
sufficiently boiled, and then, having performed for ourselves
the duties of the shampooer in a Turkish bath, we completed
the operation by dashing over each other quantities of water
of ever-descending degrees of temperature from the wooden
bowls. The dressing-room had by this time got so hot,
especially near its low ceiling, that we had to sit upon the
ground while putting on our clothes; and even a refreshing
draft of kvas—a pleasant, mild fermented beverage made
from black bread—was not thoroughly effectual in restoring
us to our normal temperature.

The Irkutsk bath was of course far more luxurious than
this, though even that fell far behind the Petersburg or
Moscow vapour-bath, or a London ‘Turk.’ At Irkutsk we
were ushered first into a spacious hall, at one end of which
was a refreshment bar, while tables here and there were
well supplied with illustrated and other newspapers published
in the capital and principal towns of European Russia. The
dressing-rooms were furnished with cushioned couches, over
which white sheets were spread, and in the bath itself, taps
supplied with water, hot and cold, took the places of the
A CORDUROY ROAD 213

primitive tubs and ladles of the Vladivostok bath. But in
all other respects the Irkutsk bath was very similar to that
at the port. The vapour-bath itself was scarcely better
appointed or freer from the aspect of dinginess and grime;
and the dressing-room was so intensely hot that the luxury
of lying at one’s ease and slowly cooling down was not to be
enjoyed, and consequently the bath could not be scientifi-
cally finished off. However, I suffered no ill effects from the
sudden change of temperature to the intense cold out of doors.

Four days we spent in the capital, resting and sight-
seeing; and then, at midday on January 29, we repacked
our renovated sledge, crossed the broad river, and galloped
away in the direction of Krasnoyarsk, rattling along over a
perfect corduroy road—not manufactured artificially like
those of America by transverse rows of tree-trunks, but
formed naturally by the hoofs of thousands upon thousands
of freight-sledge horses. Each horse in each long caravan
treads so closely in the footsteps of its leader that conti-
nuous parallel lines of deep troughs are formed across the
road from side to side, perfectly straight and equidistant ;
and the ridges between these troughs are so firmly solidified
by the succession of heavy sledges passing over them, that no
American wood-pole road could by any possibility so well
deserve the name of ‘ corduroy.’

Travelling now through a hilly and well-wooded country,
we came at intervals upon little towns picturesquely situated
at the feet of steep cliffs, down which we somewhat perilously
slid, feeling much the need of the grapnel-like brakes trail-
ing behind and catching in the ice with which some of the
214 IRKUTSK TO TOMSK

better class of private sledges were provided. We rarely
had to climb, for the country here forms a succession of
terraces descending from east to west, and the towns are for
the most part built under the shelter of the cliffs thus
formed. Almost every hour we passed through some small
village, many of them even more dilapidated than those of
the eastern provinces. The Siberian log-hut is always built
with double roofs as well as double windows, and the outer
roof, formed of wooden planks, is frequently allowed to fall
into such a state of disrepair, that, to the inexperienced eye,
a village of the poorer sort seems to contain no single house
which could by any possibility be habitable in so severe a
climate. The houses too, especially in the province of
Irkutsk, lean in every direction out of the perpendicular,
though whether this is due to faults of the builders or to
the earthquakes to which the locality is very subject, we did
not ascertain.

Daily we continued to meet and pass long caravans of
tea and kerosene and Western produce; and frequently our
horses, suddenly shying and swerving from the path with
terror in their eyes, would call our attention to the stift
frozen corpse of some poor Rosinante, with a flock of carrion
crows hovering around it. The life of the caravan horse is
anything but a happy one. Day and night, day and night,
sleeping and waking, he plods on with scarcely ever arest. At
the back of the sledge in front of him is a wooden bowl, into
which the yemshik occasionally throws some grain or a little
snow with which the poor beast can cool its parched mouth;
and when at length he falls exhausted, he is cut loose to die,
THE FREIGHT CARAVAN HORSE 215

while one of his wretched fellows has to do double duty for
atime. Once we came up behind a caravan and passed a
horse, from the yet unfrozen, raw, bleeding, steaming flesh
of which the hide had just been removed entire; and it was
impossible to repress a horrible suspicion that the two men
who were hurrying after the sledges with the skin had
begun their bloody work before the animal was fairly dead,
lest the quick-acting frost should interfere with their
labours.

 

     

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Early in the morning of the second day after leaving
Irkutsk we were wakened by the sudden stopping of the
sledge and the loud halloaing of our yemshik; and on
looking around us acurious scene met oureyes. The dawn
was breaking, and we were in the midst of a wide plain,
the tips of the straggly grass just visible above the snow.
Close in front of us was a little sledge, to which was lashed a
large barrel of kerosene. Through some accident the sledge
216

IRKUTSK TO TOMSK

had got tipped over on its side, and in its struggles to right
itself the horse had shaken the duga from its place and got

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It had then yielded to its fate,

and, with head hung
down, the only living
thing in sight, it looked
the very picture of de-
In the dim
morning light we could

solation.
see no sign of the
caravan from the ranks
of which it had fallen
out, doubtless while the
yemshiks were asleep;
but our driver’s eyes
were, perhaps, more
accustomed to the light
than ours. To us his
halloaing seemed a vain
and purposeless pro-
ceeding ; but it proved
otherwise, for after some
few minutes it was
echoed by an answering

shout, and a little later

a peasant came in sight, and with profuse thanks took

charge of the lost sledge and horse.

Half an hour later we reached a gateway marking the
boundary of a township, and the yemshik forfeited his
A LOST BREAKFAST 217

‘na vodka’ and earned a dressing down by driving us full
pelt against a gate-post and smashing an outrigger into
two. At the next station the starosta spliced the broken
pole with rope, and we proceeded with little delay but with
tempers scarcely sweetened. For we had brought with us
from Irkutsk some small cured fish like little bloaters, and
while we superintended the mending of the sledge, the
starosta’s big dog had made off with our breakfast as it
was comfortably grilling at the guest-rocm stove. It was
specially annoying because it was rarely we were favoured
with so good a chance of exercising our culinary art, and
the Siberian peasant cannot be persuaded by any manner
of means that asmoked fish needs cooking. Then to add
to our troubles a fine large ham that we elected to fall back
upon proved to be frozen so hard that nothing less than a
chopper would make the smallest impression on it, and
nothing fit to eat could be obtained at the station.

But our troubles of this kind were very nearly ended.
At many stations cabbage soup or other homely but
appetising fare was kept in readiness for the coming
traveller, and almost before we had time to doff our furs
it was brought smoking hot into the guest-room. Our
bag of frozen food still contained some remnants of the
mighty joint of beef bestowed upon us by Mrs. Paulsen at
Blagovestchensk some four or five weeks before, as well as
other viands more recently procured ; but we seldom found
_ it necessary to have recourse to this. At the villages white
bread was, itis true, stillan unknown luxury: but our arrival
at the post-station of a town of any size was the signal for the
218 IRKUTSK TO TOMSK

appearance of half a dozen hawkers bearing trays of
biscuits, cake, and bread, from which we could, without
difficulty, replenish our store. Two days out from Irkutsk
we reached the little town of Tulunovsk, and, exploring
the place while waiting for our horses, my national vanity
was gratified by a token at a general shop that British
manufactures had penetrated even here, for hanging in
the window was a fine specimen of coloured lithography
announcing that Paisley threads could be obtained within.
Subsequently in Western Siberia we came frequently across
similar advertisements bearing the names of more than one
firm of Paisley manufacturers, as well as others explaining
the virtues of the implements of husbandry imported by the
agents of the great agricultural machinery manufacturers
of Bedford and Ipswich.

At half-past seven on the morning of February 1 we
reached the pretty little town of Nizhni—or Lower—Udinsk,
called after quite another Uda from that on which Verkhne,
or Upper, Udinsk stands. The Western Uda is a tributary
of the great Yenisei, and thus its waters find their way to
Arctic regions ; the Eastern falls into the Sélenga, by far
the largest of the rivers which feed the Baikal Sea. M.
Edmond Cotteau, who passed through Nizhni Udinsk in the
early summer, tells us that the waters of the Uda flow clear
and rapid over polished and rounded pebbles, which form
a marvellous natural collection of specimens of granite,
porphyry, and marbles of all colours; but at the time of
our brief visit these beauties were, of course, hidden by
the ice.
HARD ROADS TO TRAVEL 219

Breakfast despatched, we resumed our journey without
remaining to explore the town. The horses in this district
were large and strong, and the yemshiks well earned their
drink-money. Travelling was fairly fast, despite the
wretched condition of the roads. Between Irkutsk and
Tomsk, where probably there is more road traftie than in
all the rest of Siberia put together, we found the worst
roads anywhere. At night all attempts to sleep were often
rendered futile by the crashing and bumping and swaying
of the sledges, and by the yelling of the yemshiks as they
lashed up the horses into a supreme effort to drag the
sledge from some deep hole extending right across the road,
in which it was half buried; and more than once in the
middle of the night we had to rouse ourselves from broken
slumbers and relieve the sledge of our weight before the
struggling beasts could succeed in their efforts.

In many places where the nature of the country would
permit it, a driver would desert the main road and make a
path for himself through the deep untrodden snow over
grassy plains; and others, following in his track, would
gradually beat out a path, rough and circuitous, but still
preferable to the road itself, cut up as it was and corduroyed
by countless caravans of freight-sledges. Over these fear-
ful roads we tore often at a mad gallop. In the second
stage from Nizhni Udinsk our middle horse was harnessed so
close in that at every bound he sent his hind hoofs crushing
against the front of the sledge, and on alighting at the
village post-station of Kamishtchetskaya we were more an-
noyed than surprised to find a plank entirely kicked away,
220 IRKUTSK TO TOMSK

our precious ham hanging out, and the hold in which were
stowed our bag of frozen food and other necessaries of the
journey chock full of dirty snow kicked up by the horses’
hoofs. A new piece of plank was soon nailed in, and on
we went again, travelling neck and neck with two Russian
merchants in a huge kachovka.

The rule against passing a post-sledge going in the
same direction on the road appeared to be ignored in this
part of the journey, and we had many an exciting race with
our friends. Early on the morning of February 2 the two
sledges drew up almost at the same moment at the door of
a post-station bearing the euphonious name of Polovino-
Cheremkhovskaya. The kachovka got off again with a good
ten minutes’ start of us, but we fortunately obtained the
services of a dashing young yemshik, a youth scarcely
emerged from boyhood, who started off with a stern deter-
mination to reach the next station first or destroy us all in
the attempt. Shortly after starting we galloped over the
brow of a hill and obtained a fine view of a broad valley
spreading out before us. Through the valley and up the
narrow roadway on the steep hillside, a long procession of
freight-sledges was winding slowly towards us; and right
into the midst of these our reckless young driver plunged,
tearing down the hill at a mad gallop, completely overturn-
ing several of the sledges, and often coming within an ace
of upsetting us as well. But with all its faults ours was a
steady, well-balanced sledge; and though, after some tre-
mendous crash which seemed likely to burst in the side of
the vehicle we sometimes remained poised for several seconds
SLEDGE RACES 221

in unstable equilibrium on one runner and the point of an
outrigger, we always finally settled down right side upwards.
How the yemshik managed to maintain his seat upon the box
through this mancuvre was a mystery to us, but he stuck
on, and in a few minutes we had left the hill and the
caravan and our friends in the kachovka far behind.

But when we reached the next station, in a little village
known as Kliochinskaya, we were not greatly surprised to
find half a dozen of the ribs which kept the body of the sledge
together cracked in two. To expect the sledge to hang
together for another stage seemed hopeless; and we were
looking around in search of a vehicle to take its place, when
our friends the Russian merchants arrived and came to our
assistance. They expressed a much more hopeful opinion
of the condition of our travelling home. Under their direc-
tion several yards of rope were twisted, coiled, and netted
round the sledge, and our hopes of bringing our old gipsy-
van with us to the railway terminus were raised again.

But it is the by-ways made to avoid the corduroy
roads that afford the finest opportunities for racing. The
roads themselves are scarcely wide enough for the purpose ;
but if the leading sledge takes to the by-ways, the yemshik
behind gallops his horses along the rough high-road in the
hope of arriving first at the spot where the two roads meet.
Then for the next few minutes the travellers experience
a series of sensations more exhilarating than luxurious.
Lashing furiously at his horses, and lavishing upon them
promiscuously the vilest oaths and the tenderest terms of
‘endearment, the driver sends his team spinning along at the

21
222 IRKUTSK TO TOMSK

top of their speed, jumping deep holes and sending the sledge
crashing over every obstacle in its way. On one occasion
we had a particularly exciting contest of this kind; for as
we neared the junction of the two roads it became apparent
that it would be a neck and neck race. And here our
heavy and well-balanced sledge stood us in good stead; for
when the crash came it was the other sledge that over-
turned, and they were our rivals and not ourselves who
were hurled out into the snow with their baggage on the
top of them. But they bore us no ill-will. We were out
of sight before they had repacked their sledge and started
after us; but when they caught us up while discussing a
meal at the next station-house, they laughed heartily at
their mishap and congratulated us on our victory.

Soon after midnight on February 2, we passed through
the little town of Kansk, and at daylight on the 4th, five
days and eighteen hours after leaving Irkutsk, we pulled up
at Krasnoyarsk, having kept up an average of 189 versts, or
126 miles, a day. We had been warned by friends that the
hotels of Krasnoyarsk were anything but good, and that
very decent accommodation could be had atthe post-station.
For in the towns of Western Siberia the post-stations also
serve the purpose of hotels. In the common guest-room
they are compelled by the regulations to give accommoda-
tion free to travellers; but in addition they have private
rooms, the use of which the guests may obtain on payment
of a very moderate sum. The accommodation was certainly
not luxurious, but it was infinitely better than that of some
Siberian hotels at which we had stayed; and on the morn-
KRASNOYARSK 223

ing of our arrival we slept very comfortably till midday,
when we once more donned the garb and assumed the
aspect of civilisation and went into the town in search of
Dr. Peacock, Director of the Krasnoyarsk Hospital, and the
son of an Englishman.

As Irkutsk is known as the Paris of Siberia, so Krasno-
yarsk, the City of the Red Cliffs, is called its Athens. Of
all the great towns situated on the Northern Asian high-
way it is certainly the most picturesquely situated. The
ruddy-brown cliffs of the Yenesei and the Kacha rivers, at
the confluence of which it is built, rise to a considerable
height, rocky and well wooded in parts. It is in the midst
of a hilly country, and even in its stern winter aspeci there
was something about it very pleasant and inviting. Un-
fortunately, like Irkutsk, it has suffered in recent years
from a most disastrous fire. It was on the night of April
17, 1881, that this great conflagration began. Within four
hours 340 houses were destroyed; and when the fire had
burnt itself out, the only buildings remaining standing within
an area of some 250 acres were two or three churches,
which, built in the midst of wide open spaces, had escaped
with little damage. The loss was estimated at from six
to eight million roubles; but in the half-dozen years which
had passed since the disaster, almost every trace of it had
disappeared.

Two days we rested in Krasnoyarsk, revelling in the
hospitality of the genial Anglo-German Russian doctor and
his wife. Of English blood on his father’s side, and German
on his mother’s, Dr. Peaceck has so fitted himself to his
224 IRKUTSK TO TOMSK

surroundings that he is an excellent Russian, having almost:
no acquaintance with the language of his fathers. But in.
his fine physique as well asin his noble work at the hospital,
he does honour to his English parentage, which shows
itself too in his ardent love for sport, and the cordial
welcome which he is always ready to extend to any chance
Englishman who may pass through Krasnoyarsk. Insular
prejudice induced my companion and myself, I am afraid,
to submit to rather than return the worthy doctor’s embrace
when he kissed us on the lips at parting; but if the manner
of the leave-taking was a trifle ‘un-English ’ its kindliness
and heartiness were ample compensation.

Our station-house looked out upon a wide open space,
in the centre of which stood the cathedral of the see of
Yeneseisk, differing in little but its size from the churches of
Byzantine architecture which we now passed at every town.
When we rose on the Sabbath morning, clouds of white
smoke were rising from every part of its roof; and my first
impression was that the town was threatened with another
conflagration. A little reflection and observation convinced
me, however, that the smoke was issuing from hidden
chimneys leading from the many stoves which would be
necessary to raise the great building to a comfortable heat
in such a climate. Experience had taught us that the
exterior is generally by far the best part of a Siberian
church, so we did not trouble to examine the interior of
the cathedral.

At ten o’clock on Sunday morning, February 10, we
were once more packed in our sledge; and twenty-two hours

*
A CONVICT TRAIN 225

later, we were breakfasting at the little town of Achinsk,
only a few miles within the boundary line of East Siberia.
Henceforth our travelling expenses were to be reduced by
half. In Eastern Siberia the Government rate is three
kopeks per verst per horse ; in the West it is only one kopek
and a half. The boundary line runs somewhere about
halfway between the two stations of Bieloyarskaya on the
east, and Krasnorechinskaya on the west. Travelling east-
ward, one gets at Bieloyarskaya eastern horses, and has
consequently to pay, for the stage of seventeen versts, just
double the price legally demanded for the journey in the
opposite direction.

As we approached the city of Tomsk, the largest and
most important town in Western Siberia, the passenger
trafic became greatly increased. Officers and merchants
in post-sledges met us every few miles; troops of Cossack
soldiers on the march, with their families in sledges behind,
several times enlivened the journey; and twice or thrice a
more painful interest was excited by a long train of convicts,
emerging from some dismal étape, or prison resting place,
in the early morning, or marching dejectedly along the
road, the sickly following with the women in rough open
sledges behind. The largest train we met, near Achinsk,
must have numbered fully a hundred persons, guarded by
only some half a dozen soldiers. They appeared to be
warmly clad in sheepskin shubas; and, gaze at them curi-
ously as we would, it was difficult to gather from these pass-
ing glimpses any vivid impression as to the degree of the
long sufferings they endured. The Russian Government is
226 IRKUTSK TO TOMSK

understood to have abolished the system of sending trains
of convicts to Siberia during the winter; but that the
work of distributing the exiles among the prisons of
Asiatic Russia goes on to a considerable extent during the
season of snow and ice is a fact for which I can certainly
vouch.

Travellers have often remarked on the singular un-
willingness of the Russians to wake a sleeping man. Dr.
Lansdell, the author of ‘ Through Siberia,’ was informed by
an Anglo-Russian lady that she had frequently been told,
on asking for a servant, that he was asleep and could not
be waked, because ‘a sleeping man’s soul was before his
God.’ Avyather remarkable instance of this Russian super-
stition occurred to us at a post-station some sixty or
seventy miles before we reached Tomsk. It was the dead
of night when we arrived, and all the horses were out. It
would have been difficult to obtain private horses at that
hour, and we decided to rest where we were till the dawn.
To avoid unpacking, and as a slight safeguard against
pilfering, I curled up in the sledge, while my companion
slept on the station-house floor. In the morning we learnt
from the station-master that a friend had inquired after
us in the night, and left a note for us. He proved to be a
young Teutonic Russian telegraphist named Doring, a native
of Riga, whose acquaintance we had made at Khabarovka.
We had heard there of his approaching departure for his
native town, and a suggestion had been made that we should
travel together ; but the uncertainty of the date of his
leaving had decided us to forego the advantage of his
A LONG CHASE 227

companionship. He had left Khabarovka five days later
than ourselves ; and for upwards of three thousand miles,
travelling in company with a Russian merchant bound for
Moscow, he had pursued us along the great Siberian highway,
everywhere tracing our progress by the post-station records.
It was a source of congratulation to us subsequently to
learn that, despite the merchant’s anxiety to reach Moscow
at the earliest possible date, and despite the fact that M.
Doring, as a Government official, was armed with a Crown
podorozhnaya, they had had extreme difficulty in catching
us, and that it was only our comparatively long stays at
Blagovestchensk and Irkutsk that had enabled them to
succeed. At last, however, they had come up with us. It
would have been a source of no little pleasure to us to meet
in that unlikely spot with a familiar face, and M. Doring
was, I believe, equally desirous of a meeting with us, with.
a view to arranging for our continuing the journey from
Tomsk together. But we were asleep, and, accustomed
though we were to brief watches in the night, he would not
wake us. At Tomsk, however, chance brought us to the
same hotel, and we were subsequently indebted to M. Déring,
with whom we travelled together to Moscow, for many uses
ful wrinkles in regard to Siberian and Russian travelling,
and for an interesting insight into some phases of Russian
peasant life, of which, without his assistance, we should have
seen little or nothing.

Mr. George Kennan, who during his latest visit to
Siberia made the journey between Tomsk and Krasnoyarsk
some eighteen months before us, speaks of the road between
228

IRKUTSK TO TOMSK

Achinsk and the latter town as the worst he had ever seen

in his life.

‘Tt was,’ he says, ‘some satisfaction to learn

 

 

 

 

 

at Ustanofskaya (fourteen
miles from Krasnoyarsk)
that General Ignatief, the
newly appointed Gover-
nor-General of Eastern
Siberia, who passed over
the road between Achinsk
and Krasnoyarsk a few
days before us, was so
exasperated by its condi-
tion that he ordered the
immediate arrest of the
contractor who had under-
taken to keep it in repair,
and directed that he be
held in prison to await an
investigation. Mr. Frost
and I agreed that it was a
proper case for the exercise
of despotic power.’ I can
heartily sympathise with
Mr. Kennan’s feelings.
Allowing for the difference
in the seasons, which was
greatly in our favour, it
was yet evident that this

piece of road had been immensely improved since Mr. Ken-
WE ARRIVE AT TOMSK 229

nan passed over it, and the amelioration may fairly be attri-
buted to the energetic action of General Ignatieff. But
we had grave reason to regret that the Governor-General
of Western Siberia had not imitated so excellent an ex-
ample. The nearer we got to Tomsk the worse became the
road, till in the last stage of twenty miles the climax was
reached. The whole journey was one terrible jolting in and
out of deep pits from which the tired beasts could scarcely
drag the sledge. Our utmost rate of progress was less than
four miles an hour, and before half the stage was accom-
plished the horses were utterly unable to proceed. Fortu-
nately we were able to procure a fresh team, and at nine
o'clock in the evening we arrived, wearied out, at the door
of the Europa Hotel at Tomsk.
CHAPTER XIV

TOMSK TO TIUMEN

The boundary of steam communication—Companions and a change of
route—Omsk—Siberian music—Off again—A meagre dinner—A
purga—Private horses and private post-stations—In the family
bedrooms — Homespun— Cheap bread—Beggars — Tiukalinsk —
Nearing the railway—Quick travelling—Tiumen.

Ar last we had reached the real boundary of the civilisation
of the West. Had it been summer we should now have
been at the end of our journey by road. Except in the
season of ice and snow a regular line of steamers navigates
the waters of the Obi, the Irtish, and the Tura, from Tomsk
to Tiumen, whence travellers can proceed by rail to Perm,
and thence again by steamer down the Kama and up the
Volga to Nizhni Novgorod, where they are within four days’
journey of London.

We, however, had still nearly two thousand miles of
sledging before us, and finding ourselves in by far the most
comfortable hotel we had yet encountered in Siberia, we pro-
posed to rest a few days, recruit ourselves, and inspect the
sights of Tomsk. But just as we were preparing to sleep we
received a visit from Mr. Déring, our telegraphist friend
from Khabarovka, and we had soon agreed to an alteration
TOMSK eer

of our plans. The high road runs southward from Tomsk
to the city of Omsk, the seat of government of the Steppe
Provinces, and thence turns north again to Tiumen. This
was the route by which we intended to go, making a halt at
Omsk; but Mr. Déring had another plan to propose. He
and his merchant fellow-traveller intended starting within
thirty-six hours, following the main road to Elanskaya
(some 290 miles), then striking straight for Tiukalinsk and
leaving Omsk away to the south. The saving in distance
was only some forty or fifty miles, and we should miss
seeing Omsk ; but we were told that the loss in this regard
would not be great.

“If I were asked to characterise Omsk in a few words,’
says Mr. Kennan, ‘I should describe it as a city of 80,000
inhabitants, in which the largest building is a military
academy, and the most picturesque building a police station ;
in which there is neither a newspaper nor a public library,
and in which one half of the population wears the Tsar’s
uniform and makes a business of governing the other half.’
This terse description of Omsk had not been written at the
time of our visit to Tomsk, and even had it been in our
hands it would probably not have altered our decision.
Siberian travel, with all its features of interest, was, it must
be confessed, beginning to pall on us a little, and we were
not indisposed to shorten our journey, even at the cost of
missing Omsk. The latter part of Mr. Kennan’s description
would apply admirably to more than one town in Eastern
Siberia through which we had passed; and the advantage
of the companionship of two experienced Siberian travellers
232 TOMSK TO TIUMEN

would far more than compensate us for the lost view of
the picturesque police station.

Our stay at Tomsk was thus shortened to thirty-six
hours, the greater part of which was usefully employed in
sleep. Tomsk is, next to Irkutsk, the largest and most
important town in all Siberia. Mr. Kennan, who has had
excellent opportunities for judging, declares it to be in point
of intelligence and prosperity the first; but in point of
interest it falls below some of the smaller Siberian towns,
in that it is much more European. It has in its yet un-
opened universsty a splendid public building; its principal
streets are wide, clean, and cheerful, flanked with brick-
built houses and ‘prosperous-looking shops. At its tele-
graph station I encountered an English-speaking Russian
of Teutonic blood who had paid a visit to Portsmouth as a
prisoner during the Crimean war, but who showed the best
of good will towards the nation of his captors. We formed
quite a pleasant little dinner party that day in the spacious
saloon of the Europa Hotel, though the harmony of the
gathering was rather disturbed than promoted by the
playing of a huge orchestrion of which the landlord was
excessively proud. He had imported it at enormous ex-
pense, and it certainly poured forth an apparently unlimited
number of operatic and other airs with an almost deafening
volume of sound. This was not the only instrument of the
kind—though it was by far the costliest—that we saw in
a Siberian hotel. It would seem that the Siberians’ love
of music is greater than their skill as instrumentalists.
During our little dinner at the Europa I was incautious
ANOTHER PURGA 293

enough to express a desire to hear the mighty music-box ;
and the landlord, in his desire to please, set a servant to
work grinding out music with a persistency which only a
protest, more emphatic than polite, from my companion
could break down.

At a little after eleven o’clock on Friday morning, the
llth of February, we started away on our last stage of
Siberian sledging, Mr. Doring and his merchant friend,
Mr. Piankoff, leading the way, and Uren and I in our
old travel-beaten povoska bringing up the rear. Mr.
Piankoff was getting anxious to be at his journey’s end,
and rests for meals were short. We had taken the precau-
tion to make a hearty meal before leaving Tomsk; but
when eight hours later we drew up at the post-station
house of Proskokova and ordered out the samovar we were a
little disappointed to find that our Russian friend’s notion
of dinner was a raw red herring and bread, even though
there was vodka and Benedictine in abundance to wash it
down.

The next day a purga began—not so fierce as that
which raged on the Pacific coast just before we started on
our long sledge journey ; not wild enough to prevent us from
continuing on our way; but sufficiently strong to compel
us to cover in the front of our sledge with a curtain of felt,
and to half smother us then with the snow which found
its way in between the crevices. or the greater part
of a week, the snow and wind scarcely ever ceased. For
hundreds of miles we were compelled to box ourselves in
and satisfy ourselves with only an occasional glimpse of the

22
234 TOMSK TO TIUMEN

country through which we were passing. The loss in this
respect was not, however, very great. For a considerable
part of the distance we were passing over a vast steppe, the
monotony of which was only broken here and there by in-
numerable windmills. We had got now into a country of
fairly well-kept roads; but the deep, newly fallen, and as
yet almost untrodden snow which covered the tracks, ren-
dered it difficult to keep up a high rate of speed. Our
Russian friends had great advantages over us in the shape
of a lighter sledge, less luggage, and a Crown podorozhnaya ;
and our knowledge of Russian invective was taxed to the
uttermost to prevent our being left behind. Where the
snow was deep or the road was bad, we usually put in a
demand for an extra horse, and frequently got it without
extra payment.

Often as we neared a post-station the yemshik would turn
to us and ask if we wished to be taken to the Government
post-station, or to a private owner of horses; and at length
on reaching the town of Kamisheva, we received at the post-
station a note from Mr. Déring, informing us that he and
his companion were ‘chez un volni,’ which being interpreted
signified that they were at the house of one of the numerous
rivals of the Government in the posting business. The
cost of Government posting in Western Siberia is, as I have
explained, anything but extravagant. Two persons with a
reasonable amount of baggage require but a pair of horses,
and are not compelled to pay for more, even if the state of
the road requires a third. For two fellow-travellers the
cost is therefore scarcely more than a farthing a mile for
IN THE FAMILY BEDROOM a3

each of them, this including the hire of horses, the service
of drivers, and the use of post-stations. Yet, so cheap are
horses here, and so miserably poor are the inhabitants, that
there is quite a brisk competition among the peasants for
the privilege of carrying travellers at this low rate, or for
even less if one has a turn for bargaining, and with better
horses than the Government stations generally provide.
Between Tomsk and Tiumen—and even farther east than
Tomsk—every town and village has its private posting
houses. At these no podorozhnaya is asked for; the tax-of
a kopek per verst which the Government charges for these
permits may be saved, and the traveller may be certain of
private horses never failing him.

The houses are poor, it is true; but they afford to the
‘tourist’ in search of knowledge a better glimpse into pea-
sant life in Siberia than can generally be obtained at Govern-
ment post-stations. ‘Chez un volni’ there is often no room
set apart for travellers and customers. Often the house
consists of but two rooms, one occupied by the proprietor
and the whole of his family, and the other by yemshiks.
From Kamisheva to Tiumen, a distance of nearly five
hundred miles, we travelled almost entirely with horses from
these private stations. Arriving at all hours of the night,
we were frequently shown into the family bedroom to wait
till the horses were harnessed. Sometimes a bevy of dam-
sels would rise from the floor or from beds, and, wrapping
their scanty bed-covering around them, would scuttle off
with maiden bashfulness; but more frequently they would
refuse to be disturbed in the midst of their night’s repose.
236 TOMSK TO TIUMEN

The rooms, squalid and poor as they were, showed a much
nearer approach to Western comfort than those in the wild
regions of the Far Eastern provinces. In many cases large
wooden four-posters filled the corners of the room, and thick
hanging curtains shielded the sleepers from the prying gaze
of curious passengers. Often, however, these devices of
modesty were entirely wanting.

In these rooms, too, while the family were yet asleep,
we drank our tea in the early morning; and here, with the
household duties going on around us, we took our meals by
day. Often, it must be confessed, there was a stuffiness
about the apartment which did not conduce to strengthen
the appetite; and sometimes ‘ stuffiness ’ was a term hardly
sufficiently strong to meet the case.

Spinning was prominent among the domestic duties.
At several of the houses, the wife or one of the daughters
was engaged in producing home-spun linen, which, we were
told, commands a ready sale in quite distant parts of Russia.
We had seldom to have recourse to our supply of frozen
viands. Our travelling companions allowed us only one
square meal a day, and sometimes our merchant friend
rebelled at even that, and proposed to make the zakouska
suffice—the piece of raw dried fish or some other delicacy
of that nature taken to the accompaniment of a glass or
two of vodka. The meals to be had at the houses were, it
is true, not always of the best; but good substantial
shtchee could generally be obtained. Despite the signs of
greater comfort in the houses, the people are far poorer than
in the Hastern provinces. Living appeared to be exceedingly

 
BEGGARS o47

cheap. In some places black bread, the staple article of
diet, could be obtained, we were told, for something like
fourpence-halfpenny or fivepence the pud of forty pounds.
Nevertheless our arrival at a village was always the signal
for the appearance of a troop of beggars. And it was
not only the yemshiks who asked for drink money. The
starosta wanted a ‘na chai’ for entering our names in his
books—an operation in the performance or omission of
which we took not the smallest degree of interest; the man
who put the horses in always wanted to be ‘remembered ; ’
and the lounger who leant against the station door and looked
on sometimes put in his claim too. It was an unpleasing
contrast to the sturdy independence of the peasants in the
East, where the yemshik who had driven his hardest for a
stage of twenty miles would scarcely deign to ask for a
“na vodka.’

In the early morning of Wednesday, February 16, less
than five days after leaving Tomsk, we passed through the
little town of Tiukalinsk, and struck once more into the great
Siberian highway. A few hours later our two sledges parted
company. Our friend the Russian merchant had become
convinced that he could make more rapid progress without
the foreign detachment, and when we stopped to dine at
Tushnolobova, he and his companion bade us an affection-
ate farewell and went off with an hour’s start of us. We
never caught them up again, but we had subsequently the
satisfaction of discovering that, with all their economy of
meal times, they arrived at Tiumen only an hour ahead
of us.
238 TOMSK TO TIUMEN

As we neared Tiumen the private post-stations vastly
improved. Some of them were better furnished, roomier,
and altogether more comfortable than the best of the
Government establishments. At the towns and larger
villages many of them were hotels, at which one could
obtain private sleeping apartments.

But we did not stay to test the quality of the accommo-
dation. With good horses, fair roads, few delays, and only
thirty or forty degrees of frost—a temperature quite mild
compared with that to which we had accustomed our-
selves—sledge travelling was exceptionally enjoyable at this
stage of the journey, so long as the snow kept off. But it
must be confessed that our two months’ sleighing had given
us something of a surfeit. Neither of us had seen a rail-
way train for years, so there was an added zest in the
emotions with which we looked forward to our first glimpse
of Tiumen, the terminus of the little line which runs through
Ekaterinburg and across the Ural Mountains to Perm. It
was true that we should have another six hundred miles of
sledging on the other side of the Urals; but this would be
under rather different conditions, and we looked forward
with pleasure to the prospect of getting rid once and for
ever of the sledge which had been our home more or less
for the past nine weeks. We had been proud of the lumber-
ing old machine at first. It compared very favourably
with the sledges we met on the road in the Far Eastern
provinces; but the comfortable, roomy, strongly built,
handsome sledges which in the West we might have bought
new for a less sum than we had paid for this rough old
FAST TRAVELLING 239

second-hand vehicle, put us altogether out of conceit with it.
It had cost us originally seventy roubles, ‘and we had first
and last spent seventy-one roubles on it for repairs.

We jogged along merrily, making a better rate of speed
than we had ever done before. On one or two days we
covered little short of 160 miles in the twenty-four hours;
and when, at five o’clock on the morning of February 18,
we drew up at the post-station of Tiumen we had travelled
1,452 versts in six days and eighteen hours, making an
average of 215 versts, or about 148 miles aday. Since
leaving Vladivostok we had covered 7,020 versts, or 4,680
miles.
CHAPTER XV
TIUMEN TO MOSCOW

English faces—An Englishman among the Samoyedes—A railway
journey—The road to Irbit—Irbit Fair—The city of a month—
Business and pleasure—Natural food preservation—A heavy bill—
A sledging steeplechase—Back to Tiumen—A Siberian squire—
Maslinitza—Farewell to Tiumen—The Tiumen-Perm Railway—
Luxurious travelling versus speed—Ekaterinburg and its gems—
Asia, the Urals, Europe—Perm—Sledging in Europe—A posting
monopoly—Snow ploughs—A road surveyor—Tatar caravans—
The miseries of Lent—Kazan—Up the Volga—Vasil Sursk—Nizhni
Novgorod—A deserted city—Moscow—A retrospect—The death of
Mr. Uren.

Surrounpep by kindly English faces, listening to the

pleasant English tongue, with English books on the book-

shelves behind us, and English pictures round us on the
walls of the cheerful room, nothing but the samovar and
tumblers in the place of pot and cups and saucers serve
to remind us that we are stlll in Asiatic Russia. And he
must be insular-minded indeed who would prefer to samovar
and tumblers the furniture of the English tea-table. We
have been but a few short hours in Tiumen, but, like all

English-speaking travellers who ever traverse the Siberian

highway, we have found our way to the home of the

Wardroppers, the English family who for more than twenty
AMONG THE SAMOYEDES 241

years have been settled in Western Siberia. Theirs are
the first English faces we have seen since leaving the
Pacific coast. From Russian acquaintances and fellow-
travellers, from Danish friends of inexhaustible hospitality,
we had received innumerable kindnesses; but yet we had
been longing for the sight of English faces and the sound
of English voices. It was worth all the hardships and
discomforts of the long sledge journey to receive at its end
so cordial a welcome from English people, who, however
attached they have become to their Siberian home, have
lost none of their love for the land of their birth.

To various other enterprises which the Messrs, Ward-
ropper have carried on with advantage to the prosperity of
Tiumen, they have lately added a fishery at the mouth of
the Taz, which just at the Arctic Circle flows into the Tazov-
skaya Gulf, a branch of the great Gulf of Obi. Here for
months together Mr. Robert Wardropper, son of Mr. James
Wardropper, one of the original settlers, conducts the fishery
among the Samoyedes, wearing Samoyede clothes, perform-
ing his journeys on the backs of reindeer, living sometimes
on raw fish, encountering such wild snowstorms that three
paces from his door his hut is hidden from his sight,
seeing no human beings but the half-savage Samoyedes,
and altogether undergoing adventures before which our
poor little Siberian journey took the dimensions of an
infant’s crawl.

Tiumen is a prosperous town of some nineteen or twenty
thousand inhabitants, having an excellent school, several
public buildings of goodly exterior, and an infinity of
242 TIUMEN TO MOSCOW

churches of the regulation pattern. In its market-place
a brisk trade was being carried on in carpets and other
Central Asian wares, but a resident would doubtless have
said that the town was empty, just as London is empty
out of the season. For it was the month of the Irbit Fair,
and-next to the world-famous Jahrmarkt of Nizhni Novgorod
this is the most important of all the Russian fairs. Irbit,
though within the boundary which divides Russia proper
from Siberia, is only some fifteen or eighteen hours’
journey from Tiumen, and its fair, we were told, was a
sight we should not miss.

Accordingly at five o’clock on Sunday afternoon,
February 20, we took our places in the train, and abandoned
ourselves for five hours to the unaccustomed lusury of
railway travelling. Only one train a day in each direction
traverses the Perm-Ekaterinburg-Tiumen line, and as from
the eastern terminus this leaves at five o’clock, night-
travelling was a necessity. It was not exactly a break-neck
speed at which we travelled. Poklevski, our destination so
far as the railway was concerned, was only some sixty-
nine miles away; but it was close upon ten o’clock when
we left the train. Plenty of sledges were, however, waiting
about the station doors for passengers bound for the fair, and
after a capital supper in the comfortable waiting-room we
had soon concluded a bargain by which we were to be con-
veyed to Irbit, a distance of 112 versts, in four stages, at
the rate of four kopeks, or something less than a penny, a
verst.

The route was by a short cut across country, and our
IRBIT FAIR 243

journey closely resembled a steeplechase in a sledge.
Fortunately we were almost unencumbered with baggage,
and for three out of the four stages we travelled in little
light wicker sledges into which we could just pack our two
pairs of legs. At some parts of the route the yemshik
spent almost as much of his time running beside the sledge
as he did on his perch, though such violent exercise must
have been anything but agreeable in the thick and heavy
skins he wore for warmth. But there are angles at which
even a Siberian yemshik finds it impossible to keep his seat
on the box; and besides this it was frequently necessary
for him to throw all his weight on the side of the sledge
farthest from him to prevent its turning turtle.

It was ten on Monday morning when we arrived at
Irbit. Our first and foremost desire was to find an hotel
and get into bed; but this was no easy task. Every hotel
in the town was crammed to suffocation. At length, how-
ever, we were directed to a lodging-house known as Doma
Lukdénina, and here we were shown into a small vacant
room. It was barer, dirtier, and more cheerless than almost
any post-station on the high road; but at least it hada
wooden bench in it which might do duty for a bed, and a
second bench of similar construction was soon forthcoming.
The modest rental of 45 roubles, or say 4l. 10s., was de-
manded for this room, but we explained that we intended
to remain only a single night, and not for the whole of the
fair, and the terms were left for future arrangement.

A two hours’ nap on the ‘ plank bed,’ and a light break-
fast of tea and biscuits, and then off in search of Mr. Edward
244 TIUMEN TO MOSCOW

Wardropper, under whose friendly guidance we were intro-
duced to the wonders of a Russian fair. Irbit is the city of
a month. For the rest of the year its shops are empty and
its streets are all but deserted. For this one month not
only is every shop crammed with the produce of the West
and the East, but its wide open spaces too are covered thick
with merchandise of every sort and description. Swarms
of busy merchants crowded its streets, huge pyramids of
tea-chests towered to the sky, and among the multitudinous
objects exhibited for sale in the open spaces were mighty
church bells. French cafés and German beer-halls drove a
roaring trade, and in the evenings the merchants could select
from a variety of entertainments to beguile their leisure hours.

The great place of meeting for trades is the bazaar ; there
in the evening an excellent band was playing, and Tatar,
Persian, and Central Asian merchants in their picturesque
costumes threaded in and out among the Russians and
Siberians, some in the latest fashions of Moscow and
Petersburg, and others in their rough dirty travelling
shubas and felt boots. The bustle and animation of the
vast throng among which we with difficulty made our way
came with a somewhat dazing effect after the many weeks
of travelling on the snowy roads, with for hours together
the silence only broken by the clatter of the horses’ hoofs
and the jingling of the sledge bells.

Leaving this busy scene we betook ourselves to the theatre,
where a really excellent company was performing in Russian
modern comedy; then to the large and well-appointed dining
roomof a fine hotel. The room was closely packed with mer-
A HEAVY BILL 245

chants, discussing an excellently served supper & la carte,
while a troupe of girls performed a lively concert. It was
four o’clock in the morning when we returned to our cheerless
roomat the Doma Lukanina, but even then the merry-making
for which the traders manage to find time even in this busy
month had only just begun to show some signs of languishing.

Breakfasting with Mr. Wardropper next morning we
were treated to a delicious example of natural food preser-
vation in the Siberian winter, in the shape of an excellent
dish of salt-water fish, tasting as fresh as if it had been
caught that morning, but which, in reality, had been
brought 4,000 miles by reindeer and horses from the
mouth of the Taz. An hour or two having been pleasantly
spent in strolling round the busy town, we prepared at
three in the afternoon for the return journey to Poklevski,
and called for our bill. Our landlady put in a modest
demand for twenty-five roubles; we demurred, and offered
three, with an additional forty kopeks for the use of the
samovar. The good lady protested, and summoned three
male friends to help her to argue the point with us. But
the use of a dirty cell, with a table, two chairs, and two
wooden benches, for little more than twenty-four hours, still
seemed to us rather dear at 27. 10s.; and finding argument
of no avail we dropped roubles 3°40 into the lady’s hand,
jumped into our sledge, and bade the yemshik drive away.
The apparently impudent attempt at extortion is to be
explained by the fact that at fair time in Irbit all bargains
are made for the month. It was our fault, it must be
admitted, and not that of madame of the Doma Lukénina,

23
246 TIUMEN TO MOSCOW

that we declined to stay till the end of the fair. Had
we remained we should probably have been charged no
more.

A repetition of the sledging steeplechase for eleven
hours, two hours’ nap on the seats at the railway station
at Poklevski, and five hours more in the train, and we were
back at Tiumen. It was the eve of Maslinitza, the feast with
which devotees of the Greek Church prepare themselves for
the rigorous fast
of Lent. By the
kindly invitation
of Mr. Vamfiloff,
a hospitable Rus-

 

 

sian, married to
a daughter of the
house of Ward-
ropper, and liv-
ing in patriarchal

 

 

 

style some twenty
miles from Tiu-
men, we were afforded an interesting and eminently agree-

 

able experience of the manner in which a Siberian country
gentleman celebrates this great national feast. Not Mr.
Wardle himself could have exceeded in geniality and warmth
of welcome our excellent host andhostess. For several days
they kept open house, and during almost the whole time the
tables remained piled with delicacies in and out of season,
together with wines and liqueurs from as far east as Java,
and as far west as Spain. In the intervals of feasting there
MASLINITZA 247

were music and dancing, indoor games, skating, and above
all the katchuska or toboggan, visits to the live stock of the
farm, all comfortably housed, and gallops over the country
in luxurious sledges. These last, indeed, constitute the
orthodox means of celebrating Maslinitza. The rivers and
roads of Siberia, as of Russia, are at this season thronged
with sledges gaily bedecked, many of the occupants appear-
ing in masquerade attire, galloping up and down and saluting
their friends with seasonable greetings as they pass. On
the Neva at Petersburg is, of course, of all others, the
place to see the feast of Maslinitza at its best, and to tell
in detail of the humble imitation of it to be seen at Tiumen
would be futile in view of the descriptions which have so
often been given of the gay scene at the Russian capital.
And amid the pleasure-making of the guests at the hall,
the villagers were not forgotten. They, too, had their
toboggan, but this did not prevent them from careering
down the squire’s katchuska when his visitors were seeking
amusement in other directions. More than once, too, our
host was called away to minister to the ailments of some
one or other of the dwellers round his country house, for,
doctors being scarce, his amateur skill in surgery and
medicine was eminently useful and evidently highly appre-
ciated. Everything betokened a well-managed and prosper-
ous farm, and as we sledged back to Tiumen we no longer
wondered that some of our resident English friends preferred
life in Siberia to the struggle for existence at home. Our
host was able to show us some samples of English grain
which he had obtained direct from its native ground, and with
248 TIUMEN TO MOSCOW

which he intended to experiment in the soil of Siberia in the
coming season.

On the tenth day after our first arrival in the town we
exchanged farewells with the friends who had made our stay
in the border town of Siberia so agreeable, and regretfully
left Tiumen behindus. The through journey from Tiumen
to Perm by rail—a distance of some 580 miles—occupies,
including a stoppage of three hours at Ekaterinburg, just
over forty hours—an average of some fifteen miles an hour.
Twenty miles indeed is said to be the maximum rate of
speed which the trains are ever allowed to attain. There
are fifty-one stations on the line, and as there is but one
train a day in each direction, this necessarily stops at all
of them. The stations are for some inscrutable reason
placed generally some two or three miles from the towns
and villages whose names they bear, even when the line
rans through them. But there is compensation in the lack
of speed, for we are assured that it is no uncommon thing
for a passenger to step down from his carriage on to the
line when he reaches the point nearest to his home ; though
the story of a passenger who dropped his hat out of a
carriage window halfway between two stations, got out,
recovered it, and caught the train again, is doubtless an ex-
aggeration. Apart from speed, however, it is a model line.
The seats were convertible into excellent beds at night, and
the carriages were well warmed and lighted, and fitted with
every comfort. Many of the railway stations, too, were
quite stately erections, with large and finely decorated
dining-rooms in which excellent meals were served, with
BETWEEN TWO CONTINENTS 249

ample time allowed to eat them, and a code of bell signals
which relieved one of all fear of being left behind.

A few hours after taking our seats in the train, we bade
farewell to Siberia. But we were not yet out of Asia, for
the boundary of the two continents does not coincide with
that which separates Siberia from the home provinces of
Russia. Ekaterinburg, at which we arrived at the end of
some sixteen hours, and at which we made a halt of a day,
is in the province of Perm. It isa flourishing city of some
thirty-five or forty thousand inhabitants, far more Euro-
pean than Asiatic in its type, and owing its prosperity
mainly to the marbles and precious stones found in those
parts of the Ural Mountains on the slopes of which Ekate-
rinburg stands. The topaz, the amethyst, and the alexan-
drite, the curious stone which shows like the emerald by
day and the ruby by night, are to be had here in abun-
dance at moderate prices; and pretty objects carved in
malachite, lapis lazuli, and numerous other varieties of
beautiful minerals are on sale everywhere.

Travelling in company with our friend from Khaba-
rovka, Mr. Doring, who had parted from his time-pressed

fellow-traveller and cast in his lot with ours, we left

Ekaterinburg by rail at midday on March 2, and soon
after nightfall drew up at a little station bearing the sig-
nificant title of ‘ Asiatiskaya.’ Half an hour later we were
at ‘ Uralskaya,’ and when at the end of yet another half-
hour we arrived at ‘ Evropeiskaya’ we knew we had at
length reached our own continent. We were deprived of
the pleasure which used to be enjoyed by travellers before
250 TIUMEN TO MOSCOW

the railroad was built, of sitting on the stone which divides
the two continents, and dangling a leg in each; but the
three stations served to remind us of the important point
in our journey at which we had arrived.

At the city of Perm, a Russian provincial capital, offer-
ing no particular attractions to the sightseer, we stayed
but a single day. Our arrangements for our last stage
of sledging were soon completed. Having hired for the
journey the roomiest povoska we could find, and having
packed our belongings within it, and our three selves on
our belongings—a task which, in our thick furs, was not an
easy one—we started off at ten o’clock on the morning of
March 4, along the road to Kazan.

To describe in detail the journey from Perm to Nizhni
Novgorod would be only to repeat much of what has been
said with regard to sledging in Siberia. The posting here
on this European Russian route is not managed directly
by the Government, but is let to a contractor, who has a
monopoly of the carriage of passengers, and who charges
four kopeks per verst per horse, against three kopeks in
Eastern Siberia and one and a half in Western. Like all
monopolies, it works badly. The roads, it is true, are
better than the average Siberian roads, but they are bad
enough at that. The horses, though plentiful, compare
very ill with most of the Siberian animals, and the yem-
shiks do not exert themselves nearly as much to make
good speed. One advantage of the system is that the
traveller can pay his through fare in advance, instead of
making a separate payment at each station on the route.
FROM PERM TO KAZAN 251

The winter was now fast dying. Once for a few hours
the temperature actually rose above the freezing-point, and
damp lumps of half-thawed dirty snow were flung in our
faces by the horses’ hoofs. For the most part, however,
snow continued to fall; and by the sides of the road
it lay at a greater depth than we had as yet seen it
throughout our journey. For the first time, too, we saw
snow ploughs at work—rough devices for pushing the snow
to the sides of the road. At Debes, some hundred and
twenty miles from Perm, we met a party of officials con-
sisting of the contractor for this private post, the Govern-
ment Inspector of Roads, and the Inspector of Telegraphs.
We hoped for the benefit of future travellers that the result
of the visit of inspection would be an improvement in the
posting service ; but the fact that the Government Inspector
was accompanied throughout his journey by the man on
the performance of whose contract he would have to report
was not an altogether hopeful sign. We heard some amus-
ing stories of the devices resorted to by peasants to evade
the contractor’s monopoly of carrying passengers. A
favourite dodge used to be to take a horse out from the
troika before reaching a post-station, and to go slowly past
the station with two horses, or only one, as if bound only
for some neighbouring village, the detached horse following
at a safe distance behind, and being reharnessed a verst or
so beyond.

All night and all day, long caravans of freight-sledges,
many of them in charge of Tatar drivers, met and passed
us on the road; and at many of the villages the Tatar
252 TIUMEN TO MOSCOW

population appeared to be far more numerous than the
Russians. The freight traffic was, however, nothing like as
great as that between Irkutsk and Tomsk. Horses werealways
in waiting at the stations, and our stoppages for meals were
brief, for the simple reason that there was rarely anything
eatable to be obtained. We had left Perm with our provision-
bag unreplenished, trusting confidently to the resources of
the numerous Russian towns and villages through which
we knew we should pass. But we had reckoned without
allowing for the piety of the Russian villagers. It was
Lent. For two days in succession, with keenly whetted
appetites we arrived at a village post-station, to find no
food procurable excep. cold, muddy fresh-water fish, half-raw
and steeped in vinegar, with, as an alternative, eggs which
the natural refrigerator of a Russian winter had not suc-
ceeded in preserving in quite their pristine purity. A very
few successive days of the Lenten fast as observed by the
Eastern Church might well have done more than a hundred
Protestant sermons to confirm us in the faith of our fathers.
But, short as were our stoppages, and few our delays,
we failed to maintain an average speed of more than.a
hundred and eighty miles a day, reaching the ancient
university city of Kazan—a distance of 885 miles from
Perm—in a little under seventy-eight hours.

There is much to interest the visitor in the old Tatar
city of Kazan, with its fortress or kremlin, not to be com-
pared of course with the marvellous Kremlin of Moscow,
but still picturesque enough. We remained, however, but
a day and a half, during which time it snowed and blew
UP THE VOLGA 253

great guns incessantly. It was not under the most favour-
able circumstances, therefore, that we viewed the beauties
and objects of interest in the town. We found compensa-
tion, however, in the luxury of a good hotel—the Volga-
Kama, named after the two rivers near the junction of
which the city of Kazan stands. There were actually sheets
upon the beds in which we slept—a luxury which we had
not enjoyed, except during our visit to Mr. Vamfiloff, since
leaving the Pacific coast.

On the morning of Wednesday, March 9, we once more
ensconced ourselves in our sledge with the comforting re-
flection that we had now entered on the very last stage of
our long sledge journey. From Kazan to Nizhni Novgorod
the winter road runs almost continuously along the frozen
waters of the Volga, only occasionally ascending the steep
banks to change horses at a post-station, or sometimes
cutting across a bend of the river. ‘The waters of the
Volga river system,’ Mr. Kennan tells us, ‘annually float
nearly five million tons of merchandise, and furnish employ-
ment to seven thousand vessels, and nearly two hundred
thousand boatmen.’ And for ‘annually’ he might with
equal truth have said ‘in seven months.’ For during the
rest of the year the river is a sheet of ice, and the only
signs of this vast commerce to be seen are the steamers and
sailing vessels lying frozen in by the shores. A narrow
winding way along the ice forms the sledging road, and
all the rest of the broad sheet of water is unbroken snow.
But along this sledge road there was plenty of traffic, and
the numerous villages on the banks relieved the monotony
254 TIUMEN TO MOSCOW

of the scene. In the afternoon of the second day from
Kazan we reached the little town of Vasil-Sursk, and found
it gaily decked with the national colours in commemoration
of the crowning of Alexander Alexandrovich in 1881. At
a little hotel connected with the post-station we defied
Lent and did honour to his Majesty in an excellent dinner,
and shortly before noon on the following day the spires and
domes of Nizhni Novgorod loomed into sight.

The city presented a very beautiful appearance from the
river, and the fair promise was not belied. On our left
as we rattled up the waters of the Oka River rose the
old town, with the kremlin in its midst, and innumerable
domed churches glittering in the sunlight; among them
the great cathedral of Alexander Nevski. Commissioned
to take us to a good hotel, our yemshik dashed up the bank
to the right, and we were soon making our way through
street after street of empty, shuttered shops. For we were
in the midst of the fair town of Nizhni Novgorod, the town
which for nine months of the year is a desert, and for the
remaining three presents an aspect of commercial activity
before which the busy scene we had witnessed at Irbit pates
into comparative insignificance. Presently we pulled up at
the door of an hotel of shabby exterior, and of which
the dirty interior more than fulfilled its outward promise.
Reviling our yemshik, we reseated ourselves in our sledge,
recrossed the Oka to the old town, and were soon quartered
in a comfortable hostelry.

Our sledge journey was at an end. Since leaving
Vladivostok we had travelled 5,407 miles by sledge,-and 84
MOSCOW 255

by tarantas. We had sat behind nearly 1,100 horses, and
had changed horses at 857 posting stations. Including a
stay of more than a week at Tiumen, and several shorter
periods of rest in the Siberian towns through which we had
passed, we had occupied just twelve weeks in the journey ,
and during this time we had spent close upon fifty nights
in the open air, sheltered only by the hood of our open-
fronted -sledge. The rest of our journey was easy. The
railway and the Calais-Dover steamers now connected us
directly with London. Within two days we were inspecting
the glories of Moscow under the friendly guidance of Mr.
Emery, an American merchant of the Amur River, who by
a strange coincidence happened to be staying in Moscow at
the very hotel to which chance directed our steps. We had
letters to Mr. Emery from friends in China and in England,
but that gentleman had left Vladivostok for England a few
days before us. Mr. Emery is an old Siberian traveller.
He has many times sledged across the Asiatic continent,
and has made one of the fastest sledge journeys on record
from Moscow to Irkutsk. But he candidly admits that he
prefers the water now, and hopes never to go by road again.
He had come by steamer from his home at Nikolaevsk, to
Vladivostok, and thence by steamer again to Odessa; and
by the time of his return to his home in the East, the ports
of Siberia would again be open to navigation.

We were now within three days’ reach of home, and
could look back upon our long wintry journey and endea-
vour to make up our minds whether it had been worth the
doing. More than one traveller who has made part of the
256 TIUMEN TO MOSCOW

same trip in the months of frost and snow has recorded, for
the benefit of those who might feel disposed to follow in his
footsteps, his strong opinion that the places of interest to
be seen, the pleasure to be derived, and the knowledge to be
acquired on such a journey are wholly insufficient to com-
pensate one for its hardships, its discomforts, and its mono-
tony. Did our experience confirm their testimony ? It must
be confessed that there is much to be said for their view ; but,
had it not been for one sad result of our expedition, I should
unhesitatingly have pronounced against it. That much of
the journey was monotonous, readers of this volume will not
be very strongly disposed to deny. That there were times
during the later weeks when we heartily wished ourselves
at our journey’s end, is frankly admitted. But there is a
pleasure in sledging through those vast solitudes, in the
arrival at strange towns, in the thousand and one incidents
of the journey, of which one does not easily tire; and if one
has a fairly vigorous constitution one can safely disregard
and, with the cold-defying appliances to be had in abundance,
even manage to enjoy, the rigours of the climate.

But unfortunately Mr. Uren was not endowed with a
constitution fit for such an enterprise. His spirit was in-
domitable. It was he who had conceived the project of the
journey ; and no warnings of friends would induce him to
abandon it. He knew his health was feeble; but he did
not know, what after events proved to be the case, that he
had in him the germs of consumption. He had been advised,
too, that the Siberian climate would in all likelihood benefit
his health rather than endanger it, and for a time it seemed
’

A SAD ENDING & 257

that this opinion would be justified. Through the intense
cold of the early part of the journey he appeared even to
gain in strength and vigour; and it was not till we had
nearly reached the borders of Europe that his health began
to give way. Sledging up the Volga, he grew day by day
weaker and more unfit for travelling; but his spirit never
failed him, even when there came upon him at length the
shock of knowing that in all human probability he would
reach home only to die. One could not possibly have had
a pleasanter companion, one more cheerful under trying
circumstances, or one gifted with a readier wit in overcom-
ing the petty difficulties which encountered one at every turn
on such a journey. He had left England scarcely more
than a boy, and after ten years spent in Egypt and China
he was returning for the first time to spend a well-earned
holiday with his family at home. Often as we sat discuss-
ing our half-thawed viands in the lonely post-stations
he would dwell on the coming pleasures of his visit to
his native land, and plan out future voyages—a favourite
journey, which he would certainly have ventured if his life
had been spared, being by the Caspian Sea, through Persia
to India, and so onward to the Far East. His sad fate has
cast a gloom upon the author’s memories of an experience
the incidents of which it would otherwise be an unmixed

pleasure to recall.

24
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‘HE ICE AGE IN NORTH AMERICA, and its
Bearings upon the Antiquity of Man. By G. FREDERICK
WRIGHT, D.D., LL. D., F.G.S. A., Professor in Oberlin Theo-
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United States, With 147 Maps and Illustrations. One vol.,
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The writer has personally been over a large part of the field containing the won-
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The numerous maps accompanying the text have been compiled from the latest
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RINCIPLES OF GEOLOGY; or, The Modern
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NATURALIST’S RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.
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““The Rear-Guard of the Revolution” is a narrative of the adventures of the
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OHN SEVIER AS A COMMONIVEALTH-
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HE ADVANCE-GUARD OF WESTERN
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This work is in a measure a continuation of the thrilling story told by the author in
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7 WE TIVO SPIES: Nathan Hale and John André.

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HE HISTORY OF ANCIENT CIVILIZATION.
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ROM FLAG TO FLAG. A Woman's Adventures
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KETCHES FROM MY LIFE. By the late Admiral
HoparT PaAsHA. With a Portrait. r2mo. Paper, 50 cents;
cloth, $1.00.

“The sailor is nearly always an adventurous and enterprising variety of the human
species, and Hobart Pasha was about as fine an example as one could wish to see. . . .
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entanglements of susceptible middies with beautiful Spanish girls and the sometimes
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amusements, are described with much spirit. .. The sketches abound in interesting
details of the American war.” —Londox Atheneum,

New York: D. APPLETON & CO., 1, 3, & 5 Bond Street.
D. APPLETON & CO.’S PUBLICATIONS.

 

HE GARDEN’S STORY ; or, Pleasures and Trials
of an Amateur Gardener. By GEORGE H. ELLWANGER. With
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“Mr. Ellwanger’s instinct rarely errs in matters of taste. He writes out of the
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catholic. His record of the garden year, as we have said, begins with the earliest
violet, and it follows the season through until the witch-hazel is blossoming on the
border of the wintry woods. .. This little book can not fail to give pleasure to all
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author's robust and positive judgments, and with his strong aversions as well as his
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Te FOLK-LORE OF PLANTS. By T. F. Tuis-

ELTON Dyer, M.A. 12mo. Cloth, $1.50.

“The Folk-Lore of Plants’’ traces the superstitions and fancies connected with
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tendent of the gardens at Kew.

‘A handsome and deeply interesting volume. . . In all respects the book is
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lightful volume may be warmly commended.” —Notes and Queries.

LOWERS AND THEIR PEDIGREES. By
Grant ALLEN, author of ‘‘ Vignettes of Nature,” etc. Ilus-
trated. 12mo. Cloth, $1.50.

No writer treats scientific subjects with so much ease and charm of style as Mr.
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“* Flowers and their Pedigrees,’ by Grant Allen, with many illustrations, is not
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wheat, the mountain tulip, the cuckoo-pint, and a few others. The study is a delight-
ful one, and the book is fascinating to any one who has either love for flowers or curi-
osity about them.” —A/artford Courant.

 

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LCOLLECTIONS OF THE COURT OF THE
TUILERIES. By MapaME CareETTE, Lady-of-Honor to the
Empress Eugénie. Translated from the French by ELIZABETH
Purpps TRAIN. I2mo. Cloth, $1.00; paper cover, 50 cents,

The inside view which these Recollections give of the Court of Louis
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“We advise every one who admires good work to buy and read it.”—LZondon
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EMOIRS OF MADAME DE REMUSA T.
1802-1808. Edited by her Grandson, Paut DE REMusat,
Senator. 3 volumes, crown 8vo. Half bound, $2.25.

«* Notwithstanding the enormous library of works relating to Napoleon, we know
of none which cover precisely the ground of these Memoirs. Madame de Rémusat
was not only lady-in-waiting to Josephine during the eventful years 1802-1808, but
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of Bonaparte and his wife, and the terms on which they lived, not elsewhere to be
found.”"—W. ¥. Mail.

“These Memoirs are not only a repository of anecdotes and of portraits sketched
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SELECTION FROM THE LETTERS OF
MADAME DE RESIUSAT. 1804-1814. Edited by her
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EMOLRS OF NAPOLEON, his Court and Family.

By the Duchess D’ABRANTES. In 2 volumes, 12mo. Cloth,
$3.00. ~

The interest excited in the first Napoleon and his Court by the ‘‘ Memoirs
of Madame de Rémusat” has induced the publishers to issue the famous
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costly octavo edition, in a much cheaper form, and in a style to correspond
with De Rémusat. This work will be likely now to be read with awakened
interest, especially as it presents a much more favorable portrait of the great
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which are found in no other work.

 

New York: D. APPLETON & CO., 1, 3, & 5 Bond Street.
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REE LCONOMIC CHANGES, and their Ef-

Sect on the Production and Distribution of Wealth and the

Well-being of Society. By Davip A. WELLS, LL. D., D.C. L.,

Membre Correspondant de l'Institut de France; Correspon-

dente Regia Accademia dei Lincei, Italia; Honorary Fellow

Royal Statistical Society, G. B.; late United States Special

Commissioner of Revenue; and President American Social
Science Association, etc. 12mo. Cloth, $2.00.

The readers of ‘‘The Popular Science Monthly”? will remember the interesting
series of papers communicated to its pages during the years 1887 and 1888 by Mr.
David A. Wells; in which were traced out, and exhibited in something like regular
order, the causes and extent of the wonderful industrial and social changes and accom-
panying disturbances which have especially characterized the last fifteen or twenty
years of the world’s history. Since their original publication in the Science Monthly,
these papers have been in great part rewritten by the author, and brought down to the
latest date, and are now presented in one convenient volume.

A STUDY OF MEXICO. By Davip A. WELLs.
Reprinted, with Additions, from ‘*The Popular Science
Monthly.” 12mo. Cloth, $1.00; paper, 50 cents.

‘‘The interest and discussion the papers have excited, both in the United States
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country, growing out of recent political complications, to know more about Mexico,
has become so general and manifest, that it has been thought expedient to republish
and offer them to the public in book-form—subject to careful revision, and with extensive
additions, especially in relation to the condition and wages of labor and the industrial
resources and productions of Mexico.” —F rom the Preface.

WINGS NOT GENERALLY KNOWN; A
Popular Hand-Book of Facts not readily accessible in Litera-
ture, History, and Science. Edited by Davip A. WELLS.
I2mo. Cloth, $1 75.

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glance at its contents. It contains many little items of information, gathered from the
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and ordinary hand-books, and which are not readily found when sought. In the de-
partments of Physical and Natural Sciences, moreover, are contained many interesting
results of modern research, of too recent date to have found a place in ordinary scien.
tific treatises. In a word, while this volume has little or no claim to a strictly scientific
character, it is believed that it will be found at once interesting and instructive.”

 

New York: D. APPLETON & CO., 1, 8, & 5 Bond Street.
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CHINA, TRAVELS AND INVESTIGATIONS IN THE MIDDLE
KINGDOM. A Study of Its Civilization and Possibilities. Wits
A Guance at Japan. By James Harrison Witson, late Major-
General United States Volunteers, and Brevet Major-General United
States Army. 12mo. Cloth, $1.50.

ROUNDABOUT TO MOSCOW. AN EPICUREAN JOURNEY.
By Joun Bett Bouton, author of “Round the Block.” 12mo.
Cloth, ornamented cover, Russian title-page, 421 pages, $1.50.

“This genial book gives the first truly American view of the land of Nihilists
and Novelists. The author exposes and playfully ridicules the current English
misrepresentations of Russia. His epicurean circuit for getting into and out of
the empire includes nearly every country of Europe. He keeps on the track of
all the comforts and luxuries required by American travelers. Tourists will find
the volume a boon companion. But it is no less designed to please those who
stay at home and travel only by book.”’

BRAZIL: ITS CONDITION AND PROSPECTS. By C. C. AnpreEws,
ex-Consul-General to Brazil; formerly U. 8. Minister to Norway and
Sweden. 12mo. Cloth, $1.50.

CONTENTS: Prefatory. Voyage to Brazil. Getting to Housekeeping. Rio
and its People. Life und Manners, The Emperor of Brazil. Tijuca—Pedra Bo-
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into the Interior. Visit to a Coffee-Plantation. Public Instruction. Local Ad-
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and Stock-raising. The Amazon Valley. Beasts of Prey. Slavery and Emanci-
pation. The Religious Orders, Public Lands and Immigration.

“T hope I may be able to present some facts in respect to the present situation
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of three years at Rio de Janeiro, its capital, while employed in the service of the
United States Government, during which period I made a few journeys into the
interior.”—From the Preface.

A STUDY OF MEXICO. By Dav A. Wetts, LL.D., D.C. L.
12mo. Cloth, $1.00; paper cover, 50 cents.
‘Mr. Wells's showing is extremely interesting, and its value is great. Nothing
like it has been published in many years.’"—New York Times.

“Mr. Wells sketches broadly but in firm lines Mexico’s physical geography,
her race inheritance, political history, social condition, and present government.”
—wNew York Evening Post.

“ Several effurts have been made to ratisfy the growing desire for information
relating to Mexico since that country has become connected by railways with the
United States. But we have seen no book upon thes subject by an American
writer which is so satisfactory on the score of knowledge and trustworthiness
as ‘A Study of Mexico,’ by David A. Wells.”"—New York Sun.

IN THE BRUSH3 OR, OLD-TIME SOCIAL AND POLITICAL
LIFE IN THE SOUTHWEST. By H.W. Pierson, D.D. With
Tllustrations by W. L. Sheppard. 1l6mo. Cloth, $1.50. New cheap
edition, paper, 50 cents.

‘*Tt has peculiar attractions in its literary methods, its rich and quiet humor,

and the genial spirit of its author."— The Critic.

New York: D. APPLETON & CO., 1, 3, & 5 Bond Street.
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PPLETONS’ STUDENTS’ LIBRARY. Con-
sisting of Thirty-four Volumes on subjects in Science, History,
Literature, and Biography. In neat 18mo volumes, bound in
half leather, in uniform style. Each set put up in a box. Sold
in sets only. Price, per set, $20.00. Containing -

Homer. By W. E. GrapsTone. t | THe AposTotic FATHERS AND THE
SHaxspere. By E. Dowpen. vol. ApoLocists. By Rev. G. A. JAcKSon.
Encusu Lirerature. By S. i « | THE FatHEers oF THE THIRD CENTURY.

Brooke. By Rev, G. A.
y Rev. G. A. Jackson.
Gane Lizenarien. by RC. J Eee Tuomas CartyLe: His Life, his Books,

Puitotocy. By J. P . : e
Encuisu ine at EES By J.$ « his Theories. By A. H. GuERNSEY.
NicHoL. RatpH Warpvo Emerson, Philosopher
Grocrapuy. By G. Grove. and Poet. By A. H. GuERNSEY.
oo Gzocraruy. By H. F.¢ “ | Macautay: His Life, his Writings. By
INTRODUCTION TO SCIENCE PRIM- : C. H. Jones.
ers. By T. H. Huxtry. i Suort Lire or Cuartes Dickens, By
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Puysics. By BaLtFour STEWART. JONES.

Geotocy. By A. GEIKIE. i Rusxt AINTING.
Borany. By J. D. Hooker. - USHIN “ON PAINTING:

Astronomy. “By J. N. bee ? Town Greotocy. By Cuartes KINGSLEY.

PuysicaL GEOGRAPHY. A. ? “ | Tue CuitpHoop oF Reticions. By E,
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Pouitica. Economy. By W. S. «, | History or THE Earty Cuurcn. By

Jevons.
_ Logic. By W. S. JEvons.
History or Europe. By E, A.
FREEMAN.

E. M. SEweE tt.

Tue ART OF SPEECH. Poetry and Prose.
By L. T. Townsenp.

Tue ArT or SpeecH. Eloquence and

“

History oF France. By C. M.

History or Rome. By M. ot Tue Wortp’s Parapises. By S. G. W.

YoncE. Logic. By L. T. Townsenp.

ONS “ BENJAMIN.

a ere vee Tue Great GERMAN ComPposERS. By
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HAFFY. « | THE Great ITALIAN AND FRENCH Com-
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WILKINS. 4 i
Sopuocies. By Lewis | CAMPBELL. 3 ‘i GENE SINGuNE. First Series, By G.
EK . Bi P FFY. ] : :

Waker BY Wo H. Newerceni: «, | GREAT Sincers. Second Series. By G.
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DemostHengs. ByS. H. ee « | GREAT VIOLINISTS AND Pianists. By
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foes ATLAS OF THE UNITED

STATES. Consisting of General Maps of the United States
and Territories, and a County Map of each of the States, printed
in Colors. Imperial 8vo. Cloth, $1.50.

The Atlas also contains Descriptive Text outlining the History, Geography, and
Political and Educational Organization of the States, with latest Statistics of their
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NEW YORK: D, APPLETON & CO., PUBLISHERS.
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