pidgin Russian. We found the Russian merchants living in large houses, excellently furnished. None of them spoke English, but in several cases their wives did so, and always their sons and daughters, when these were at hand. Usually they were not at hand, but were studying abroad, as in one case where the walls were hung with paintings sent by a son studying art in Paris; and we were shown amateur photographs of the daughters in the pleasant outdoor life of a French summer.

So we spent the afternoon; and in the evening we went again to the same house where we had spent the previous night. The procedure was as I have already described it, save that I refused to drink anything except tea, and obtained permission to leave early on the plea that I was fatigued. My friends, however, went through the evening till midnight. They had nothing to report to me materially different from the proceedings of the previous evening, save only that two of the guests, finding my friend the Admiral asleep, had called for a quart of champagne and had shampooed his head with it. Yet, perhaps, there is one thing to be added. The host, by his English-speaking brother, had taken opportunity to tell his foreign guests that while he could not prevent them being pressed to drink, yet he wished them to understand that, so far as he was concerned, they were absolutely free to refuse if they so wished.

In that, as in all else, our host was courtesy itself, while to the hostess I must always be grateful for the ready tact with which, by changing my glass, she saved me from an awkward situation. Indeed, we all remarked how notable it was that, amidst the carousal, the ladies of the family maintained their dignity while losing none of their sweetness.

CHAPTER XI.

ENTERING SIBERIA.

EARLY in the morning of September 21 we left hospitable Kiakhta behind us, and set forth on our journey through Siberia. There was bright sunshine, with cold wind, and the bells of the tarantass jingled merrily. Of these vehicles we had two, each with three horses and each with one driver. That was all. Spare horses, saddle-horses, guides, functionaries, and servants—all these pleasant items of our travel in Mongolia were ended.

We were on a post route, in a country where labour is not so cheap as in China, a route established on mercantile principles, and intended to cover its own cost. With us in the tarantasses-or perhaps it would be better to say under and around us-were our personal baggage, our bedding, and one box of food-stuffs. The tarantass in use in Siberia is a punt-shaped, four-wheeled vehicle, with a hooded cover, and with no seats, save a box-seat for the driver. You place your luggage on the floor of the tarantass, stow your bedding and your

wraps as you think best, and sit on such seat as may result from the stowage. The horses are changed at stations that average about fifteen miles apart, and the rate paid for the hire averages out as a little more than a third of a rouble per mile for each tarantass. Beyond that you tip the drivers, after the usual European fashion, and at the stations where accommodation is nominally free you give some trifle known as samovar money. But at places where we fed and allowed the woman of the house to wash our few dishes we gave a little more.

The rate of progress in Siberia was very much slower than in Gobi. The distance from Kiakhta to Lake Baikal, where we were to get a steamer, is about 120 miles, and a Kiakhta merchant told us he had once made it in twenty hours of continuous travelling. But he was in haste, travelling in a light vehicle of his own, and a mounted messenger preceded him to order horses to be ready at each station. We had no such facilities, nor especial need for them, and our progress was at the rate of only about fifty miles a day, or two and a third days for the distance of 122 miles.

On the second day we made sixty miles, but that involved starting at half-past six in the morning, and finishing after ten o'clock in the evening. The actual rate, while on the road, averaged about five and a half miles an hour, and there were long delays at the stations, delays of about two hours

each. These were inevitable. Fresh horses had to be brought in and had to be fed. The process of harnessing of itself occupied about half an hour, and involved much fastening and splicing with rope and string. But we took it all calmly. If the hour suited for a meal, we unpacked our box of foodstuffs and ate. If otherwise, we produced a little packet of Chinese tea, accepted the aid of the ever-present samovar, and drank and smoked and talked, or slept.

At night we encamped at the post-station, pretty much as we had done in the Mongolian tents. That is, we spread our beds on the floor, covered ourselves with our rugs or overcoats, and went to sleep. Of the two stations where we slept, one was heated by the Russian stove, and one was not; the unheated one we preferred, for the one that was heated was excessively warm. The temperature was 70°, while outside it was about 40°.

During the day we rested in the tarantass, always in sunshine and keen crisp air. It was a pleasant journey, though devoid of the delights that we obtained from riding through the plains of Gobi. The country through which we passed was of hill and valley, well wooded and watered, but little cultivated, sparsely used even for grazing, and very little inhabited. The roads were in fair condition, but of traffic there was almost none.

On the third day, as we neared Lake Baikal, we