will not go to the towns, and if they do they will become bad. We want them to remain here and help us with our work upon the land." Just so might a small English farmer have spoken about modern "schooling." It seems that education in its early stages must always be hindered by the apathy of all those who estimate the value of human life by mere animal strength, and regard it as a machine to be worked for material ends only. But there was something very natural about these peasants who could not see the use of education. Why should they? Their visions are limited by the life of isolation that they lead, and it was to me a cause for wonder that they had even heard of the word "education," or knew its meaning. The schoolmaster went on to say that there was a question of making education compulsory throughout the Russian Empire. " But," he added, "how is it ever possible to set up a compulsory system of education throughout a vast country like Siberia? It is difficult enough for the Government to administer the country as it is, to collect the taxes and perform the most general functions of government, but it will be a great work to introduce a system of compulsory education like that of Western Europe, and it cannot come for many years."
Later on the schoolmaster took me to see the little school. It was a low log-hut, with rude wooden forms. It had been built, he said, by the commune, the latter providing the books, and the only contribution from the State was a small salary to himself of 100 roubles, or £10 a year, which just enabled him to live in the village on the same level as the peasants themselves. Everything was of the roughest and
