judging from his knowledge of history, geography, politics, literature and affairs in general. It is, indeed, true that the very finest types of Russians, both physically and intellectually, find their way into these frontier districts. He had been for thirty years trading on the Siberian-Mongolian frontier in the Upper Yenisei, and I asked him what changes he had observed since he first came there. "Formerly," he replied, "we did very good business, for sable was very numerous. But for every four black sable we saw then, we only see one now. Besides, Safianof [another trader] and myself were then alone in this part of the country, but now we have Cafkas, Skobeff, Kriloff and twelve others in this valley, all working on the same ground." "And what effect has the coming of the Russians had on the native Finnish tribes?" I asked. "When I came here first," he said, " we saw the natives very little. They stayed away in the forest all the year, as if they were afraid of us. Their condition was very bad, and one winter, I remember, it was very severe and many of them died of cold and hunger. A tribe that we had seen with forty tents had only twenty left the next year. Gradually they began to come to us, and we gave them flour, tea and sugar when they were starving in the winter, and they gave us skins and sable which they had caught in the autumn. They come regularly now, and give us their furs in exchange for those articles which we bring up from across the frontier. There is never a famine among them now, for they can always change squirrel and sable furs for tea, sugar or flour." "Do you not wish to return to your comrades in the Siberian villages?" I asked. He looked at me with kindly eyes and
