The Boy Travellers in the Russian Empire/Chapter 19
CHAPTER XIX.
FRANK asked what was meant by the word Krasnoyarsk: was it derived from a river, a mountain, or did it belong to an individual?
"Krasnoe," said Mr. Hegeman, "means ’red,' and Krasnoyarsk gets its name from the red cliffs of the Yenisei on which it stands. All around the town the soil is of a reddish hue, and so are the hills that form the horizon in every direction. The Yenisei is a fine river, one of the largest in Siberia, and where it passes Krasnoyarsk it is fully half a mile wide. In summer there are two or three steamboats running to the Arctic Ocean from a point a little below Krasnoyarsk; rapids and shoals prevent their coming up to the town. The tributaries of the river are rich in gold deposits, and many of the residents have grown wealthy by gold-mining.
"Krasnoyarsk has a population of about twelve thousand, and in a general way is a sort of pocket edition of Irkutsk. It is the capital of the province of Yeniseisk, and the centre of trade for a wide extent of country. Markets, churches, and buildings in general are like those of Irkutsk, and there is an appearance of prosperity throughout the place."
Fred asked how it happened that the names of nearly all the towns in Siberia ended in "sk." They had been hearing about Irkutsk, Yeniseisk, Selenginsk, and he didn't know how many others.
Dr. Bronson came to the young man's relief as follows:
"I think you learned in St. Petersburg that the termination 'sk' is equivalent to 'of' in English?"
"Certainly," replied Fred, "I learned that 'vitch' means 'son of.' Paul Ivanovitch, for example, being Paul, son of Ivan. I understand also that Alexandrovsky was named after Alexander, Petrovski after Peter, Nicolayevsk after Nicholas, and so on through the list of Russian saints and emperors. But I've not heard of any distinguished personages with the names I've just quoted belonging to towns or cities."
"These Siberian names really assist the memory in a geographical way," the Doctor answered, "as they tell us where the town is located.
Selenginsk is on the Selenga River; Irkutsk is on the Irkut, where it empties into the Angara; Yeniseisk (province) is in the valley of the Yenisei, and the town of that name is on the river's bank. In the same way Omsk is on the Om, Tomsk on the Tom, Tobolsk on the Tobol, Irbitsk on the Irbit, and Kansk on the Kan. The list could be extended to great length."
"I must make a note of that," said Fred, "as it will be of use to students of geography in the schools at home. But what hard words they are to pronounce!"
"They are not as difficult as they seem at first sight," said the Doctor. "The chief difficulty comes from our knowing they are Russian, and expecting they will twist our tongues. Three consonants together are terrible—in Russian; in English they are easy enough."
"I quite agree with you," said Mr. Hegeman. "After I went to America on my return from Siberia, many of my friends complained of the jaw-breaking names of the places I had visited, and declared they never could speak them. A lady of my acquaintance tried in vain to pronounce Irkutsk; its three consonants, t, s, and k, were too much for her but she had not the slightest difficulty in asking me about the fasts and feasts of the Church. The s, t, and s of 'fasts' and 'feasts' are consonants, and just as difficult of pronunciation as the others; but the one set is Russian and the other 'English, you know.'
"Let me suggest an easy way of wrestling with the Russian terminals tsk, nsk, msk, and the like:
"If you're struggling with Irkutsk take the word 'coot,' which is perfectly familiar to you. Put an s to it and make 'coots,' and then a k to that and make 'cootsk' or 'kutsk.' With the prefix er you have the capital of Eastern Siberia before you.
"In the same way dispose of Kansk by building up the word 'can' till you have reached the end. The other terminals which seem so difficult may be rendered perfectly innocuous to the organs of speech if kindly and intelligently treated.
"To return to Krasnoyarsk and its snowless district.
"A description of the place, its buildings, markets, and other features would be nearly a repetition of that of Irkutsk, but on a smaller scale. In the market I was particularly interested in the character and abundance of the fish offered for sale. Among them were pike, sturgeon, perch, and others with which I was familiar, and there was one fish which closely resembled the smelt. Another that I had never before seen had a bill resembling that of a duck and a long and thin body. All these fishes came from the Yenisei or its tributaries; some of them dwell permanently in the river, and others ascend in the summer from the Arctic Ocean.
"There is a fish called omulli by the Russians, and evidently a member of the trout family. It lives in the smaller streams of Siberia, and furnishes a caviar that is greatly prized. The omulli's caviar is of a golden color, and quite in contrast with the black caviar made from the roe of the sturgeon.
"The Yenisei at Krasnoyarsk has a swift current, and resembles the Mississippi at St. Louis, according to the descriptions they gave me. Of course I could not verify the statement, as the river was frozen over at the time of my visit. The width and volume of the Yenisei gave interest to a story which was told by one of the residents:
"One of the good citizens of Krasnoyarsk had been attending a wedding on the other side of the river, and started for home rather late at night, with the intention of reaching the ferry about daylight. He was in a telega drawn by two horses; on the way from the wedding he fell asleep, and the horses took their own course. When they reached the river they were doubtless hungry, and impatient to return to their stable. The ferry-boat was on the other side, and the animals did not choose to wait. They plunged in and started across; the telega, being wholly of wood, had sufficient buoyancy to keep it afloat, but the occupant was awakened by the cold bath. Though frightened half to death, he had the good sense to lie perfectly still and make the best of the situation; the hardy beasts took him safely over, but he never cared to repeat the adventure. The few individuals that saw him coming in the early daylight could hardly believe their eyes; and one, at least, thought it was Neptune in his chariot ascending the waters of the Yenisei."
"Another illustration of the excellence of the horses of Siberia," said Fred. "I long to travel in that country, and have the experience of riding behind them."
Frank asked Mr. Hegeman if there were any high mountains in the neighborhood of Krasnoyarsk.
"There are not," was the reply, "only some low hills and rounded peaks that do not rise to the height and dignity of mountains. I believe most geographers are agreed on applying the term 'mountain' only to elevations of fifteen hundred feet and more, everything below that figure being called a hill. Under this restriction there are no mountains on the road through Siberia between Lake Baikal and the Ural range. Most of the country is flat and uninteresting; sometimes it is a perfectly level plain, and in other places it is undulating like a rolling prairie in Kansas or Nebraska. Along the rivers it is broken by ranges of hills, but as soon as you go back from the rivers you come to the plain again.
"Hour after hour, and day after day, we rode over this monotonous country, the landscape, or rather snowscape, presenting very little to attract the eye. This feature of the country makes the Siberian journey a dreary one, not unlike the journey from the Missouri River to the Rocky Mountains before the days of the transcontinental railway."
Fred asked if this level part of Siberia was treeless like many portions of our Western country.
"There is a vast amount of treeless land," said Mr. Hegeman, in response to the inquiry, "but it is not all of that sort. There are many forests of birch, pine, spruce, and larch. In some localities birch is the
only wood for building purposes, in others larch, and in others pine or spruce. Other Siberian trees are willow, fir, poplar, elm, and maple. Central and Southern Siberia are well wooded, but the farther we go towards the north the fewer trees do we find. The plains bordering the Arctic Ocean are treeless; the poplar disappears at 60° north latitude, the birch at 63°, and the pine and larch at 64°."
"I thought I had read about a species of cedar that grows over the plains to the far North," said the Doctor, "and that it serves to make that region habitable by furnishing fuel for the natives."
"I was about to mention the trailing cedar," said Mr. Hegeman. "The Russians call it kedrevnik, and some of the native tribes regard it as a special gift of Providence. It spreads on the ground like a vine, and has needles and cones similar to those of the cedar; the trunks are gnarled and twisted, very difficult to cut or split, but vastly preferable to no wood at all. Thousands of miles of country are covered with the trailing cedar, and in winter it is found by digging in the snow.
"On leaving Krasnoyarsk," continued Mr. Hegeman, "I travelled with a gentleman who had been northward to the shores of the Arctic Ocean during the previous summer, he accompanying me in my sleigh, while his own was occupied by a servant and a goodly amount of baggage. For
thirty miles there was no snow, and so we mounted our sleighs on wagons and sent them to the beginning of the snow road, while we followed in a telega a few hours after their departure. We overtook them just at the beginning of the snow road, and were glad enough to change from the telega. The vehicle had no springs, and we were shaken in it worse than if tossed in a blanket. The frozen ground was rough, and reminded me of a nutmeg-grater on a Brobdingnagian scale.
"We had started with the intention of overtaking the sleighs before sunset, but our slow progress over the rough roads had so delayed us that the evening was well advanced before our destination was reached. The transfer of baggage was made in the moonlight; one or two small articles disappeared in the operation, but whether stolen or accidentally lost we never knew.
"In Irkutsk I had been told that a new sensation awaited me in the Siberian oukhaba, and I found it on the first night's travelling after leaving Krasnoyarsk. What do you suppose it was?"
Both the youths shook their heads and said they didn't know, while Doctor Bronson preserved a discreet silence.
"The oukhaba of the Siberian road," Mr. Hegeman explained, "is the equivalent of the 'hog-wallow' of the American one; the former is formed in the snow, and the latter in the bare ground. It is caused by the snow lying in drifts or ridges when it is blown by the wind, and also by the roads being worn with much travel. The road is a succession of ridges and hollows; the drivers go at full speed, without the slightest regard to the pitching and tossing of the sleigh, and the result is a severe trial of one's nerves. The motion causes a rush of blood to one's head, and develops what the Russians call 'the road-fever.'
"I did not escape the road-fever, and to this day I shudder when thinking of this part of my experience, the most disagreeable feature of the journey. My body was sore and stiff; at every jolt it seemed as though the top of my head would fly off; sleep was next to impossible; and when I did manage to slumber, my dreams were something frightful. My temper was spoiled, and a quarrel might have been created with anything and anybody without the least effort. The fever runs its course in two or three days, but may last longer; as long as the roads are bad the inexperienced traveller is liable to it. Sometimes the sleigh made a clear jump of five or six feet, and the wonder was that the vehicle did not go to pieces and leave us hopelessly wrecked."
Fred asked if any wolves were seen in this part of the journey or elsewhere in Siberia.
"Occasionally we saw wolves," was the reply, "but not often. There are plenty of wolves in Siberia, but they have enough to live upon in the game that abounds everywhere, so that they are not likely to attack travellers. Siberian and American wolves are much alike, but the former are said to be larger and fiercer than their American cousins.
"I can tell you some wolf stories, but they do not belong to Siberia. It is only in Western Russia and in Poland that travellers are attacked by wolves, and then only in the severest winters, when game is very scarce and hunger has made the animals desperate."
"Please tell us one of those stories," said Frank. "I have read accounts of men being chased by wolves, but have just now forgotten what they were."
The request was echoed by Fred, and Mr. Hegeman kindly gratified their wish.
"To begin with," said he, "the horses are the object of attack and not the men in the vehicle; but of course when the horses are overpowered the wolves make no distinction and devour everything edible. When desperate they will venture to the farm-yards to kill sheep and cattle. Their favorite article of food, other than wild game, is a pig, and the squealing of a pig is an appeal that no hungry wolf can resist.
"Advantage of this propensity is taken by those who go out to hunt the wolf for amusement. On a moonlight night two hunters go out with
an open sledge drawn by two horses; they carry their guns, with plenty of ammunition, a pig tied by the feet, and a bag of hay, together with furs and robes to keep them warm. When they reach the middle of the forest where the wolves abound, the horses' heads are turned towards home, the bag of hay, fastened to a rope from twenty to forty feet long, is thrown out, and the pig's ear is pinched until the poor creature squeals in his loudest tones. If a wolf is within hearing he comes at once, and if there are other wolves they follow him and his example. The pig's ear is continually twisted; the squealing resounds through the forest, and when the wolves come in sight they mistake the bag of hay for the animal they seek. They rush for it, and as they come within range are shot down. The sleigh does not stop to pick up the game, but continues its course at a walk or slow trot, provided the driver can restrain the terror-stricken horses. The next day the dead wolves, if any, are gathered for the sake of their skins.
"Sometimes a dozen or more wolves will be killed in this way in a single night, but more frequently the hunters return empty-handed. Sometimes the wolves come in great numbers, and with so much fierceness that the hunters are obliged to flee for their lives—not always successfully.
"And now comes the wolf story I promised; it was told to me by a Russian officer some years ago, and I will endeavor to give it as nearly as possible in his own words. Imagine that he is talking to you as he talked to me:
"'I was stopping for a part of the winter at the house of a fellow-officer near Yilna, where he had a large estate. His name was Selmanoff, and he was noted for his excellent horsemanship and his love for all kinds of hunting sport.
"'The winter was one of the worst that had been known for a long while, and two or three times we heard of travellers through the forest having been pursued by wolves. Of course this led to a wolf hunt, which Selmanoff proposed and I heartily accepted.
"'We made our preparations, selecting a broad sledge open all around, and formed of wicker-work, so that it was light as well as strong. We carried two short, smooth-bore guns of large calibre—rifles are not desirable on these hunts, as it is impossible to take accurate aim from the moving sledge in the moonlight. The guns were breech-loaders, and the charge was a heavy one of buck-shot and ball.
"'We had two horses, young and powerful beasts, and the driver was one of the best on the estate. After dining heartily we started about sunset and drove some twenty miles or so into the middle of the forest, over a good road which had been trodden by the peasants carrying their produce to the market at the nearest town. Our decoy pig lay quietly among the furs, and gave no sign of his presence save an occasional grunt of dissatisfaction at his uncomfortable position.
"'At the spot where the hunt was to begin we turned about and threw out our bag of hay; then we twisted the pig's ear and he protested with a loud squeal.
"'An answering howl came from the forest, and seemingly not a dozen yards away. Another howl and another followed quickly, and then the air was full of them.
"'In a minute or so a dark form was revealed on the snow behind us, and making straight for the hay-bag. Selmanoff gave me the first fire, and I took it. The wolf fell at my shot just as he was within a few yards of the bag.
"'But another came, and then another, and in a few minutes there were a dozen or more in sight. We shot them as fast as they came within range, but the numbers did not diminish. The shooting and the howling of the wolves frightened the horses, and the driver had a difficult task to restrain them.
"'As the wolves increased in number, we saw we were in danger; the extent of the pack was far beyond our expectation, and the long-continued hunger of the brutes had made them very fierce. The shooting of one after another did not seem to restrain their ardor in the least; those that were untouched by our shot dashed madly ahead, and showed a determination to appease their hunger at all hazards.
"'Selmanoff told the driver to increase the speed of the horses. He gave the order not a moment too soon. Just as the horses were put to a gallop, several wolves sprang from the forest at our side, and if we had been going slowly they would have easily reached the sleigh. As it was, we passed within a few feet of them, and their howls of angry disappointment rang in our ears.
"'We cut the rope that held the hay-bag; it detained our pursuers only a few moments, as they quickly discovered it was not what they wanted.
"'On they came again. We loaded and fired as fast as we could; there was no occasion to take accurate aim, as the road behind us was fairly filled with wolves, and it was quite sufficient to point our guns at the dark mass revealed against the snow.
"'We had made six or eight miles on our return, when an additional danger that threatened us was suggested by my friend. There was a sharp angle in the road a mile or so ahead of us, and, at the pace we were proceeding, the sledge would certainly be upset in going around the angle. As we approached the point of peril we ceased firing, laid our guns among the furs, ordered the speed of the horses to be slackened—no easy thing to accomplish—and then both of us hung out as far as possible on the inner side of the sledge, to keep it from going over.
"'As we made the turn the sledge was poised for some distance on one of its runners, and if we had not taken all the precautions I have named, it would have gone over. From this point was a clear and comparatively straight run homeward of ten or twelve miles, and the horses were put to their best work. They had no need of urging, as they knew the danger that threatened as well as we did.
"'One horse stumbled and fell; he was up in an instant, but not before the wolves had actually reached the sledge. One of them jumped directly at it, but as he did so I pressed the muzzle of my gun to his head and fired. Another sprang upon the fallen horse as he was rising to his feet, but was shaken off before he obtained a good hold with his fangs.
"'The servants of the chateau heard us coming at full speed and our rapid firing. They knew something was the matter, and as we neared the house they began shouting and waving lanterns. The wolves slackened their speed and gave up the chase, but not until we were within a hundred yards of safety.
"'We dashed into the court-yard, the gates were closed, and then Selmanoff and I, both fainting from exhaustion after our terrible ride, were
assisted from the sledge and into the house. You may be sure that since then I have never wished to undertake a wolf-hunt of this sort.'"
"An excellent story," said Frank. "It is certainly better than those wherein people are obliged to draw lots to see who shall be sacrificed to the wolves in order that the others may escape."
"I agree with you," said Fred. "There's quite enough of the sensational in having everybody get away safely after an exciting run, instead of being eaten up by their pursuers. If only the wolves are killed it is all right, as they are enemies of the human race, and do no good to any one except to furnish skins for sleigh-robes, rugs, and other useful or ornamental things."
It was agreed unanimously that the best known use for a wolf was to convert his skin into something of the kind described. When this decision had been reached, the conversation reverted to the sleigh-ride through Siberia.
"We left the road in pursuit of wolves, while travelling westward from Krasnoyarsk," said Mr. Hegeman.
"Jumping oukhabas," suggested one of the youths.
"Yes, that was it exactly. Well, we jumped oukhabas, rode over bare ground, were caught in a snow-storm, and had a tough time generally till we reached Tomsk, the next provincial capital. It takes its name from
the river Tom on which it stands, and is a prosperous place with about twenty thousand inhabitants.
"As at Irkutsk, there are many wealthy merchants in the city, and also a fair number of citizens who have made fortunes by mining for gold. The houses are spacious and well-built, and there is a large 'gymnasium,' or high-school, for boys, and an 'institute,' or high-school, for girls. Many private teachers find employment in rich families who prefer educating their children at home. Tomsk may be regarded as the most important place in Siberia next to Irkutsk.
"There is a line of water communication between Tomsk and Tumen, a thousand miles to the westward, but of course it is only available in summer. Fifteen or twenty steamboats are engaged in the traffic; they descend the Tom to the Ob, and the Ob to the Irtish, which they ascend to the Tobol. Then they follow the Tobol to the Tura, and the Tura to Tumen. With barges in tow, the journey occupies twelve days; without them it is made in a week. Travellers are so few that it does not pay to run boats for passengers alone, and all the boats in use when I was there were mainly for freight purposes, and had limited space for passengers. If you look at the map of Siberia, you will see that it possesses an excellent system of water communication.
"The only navigation of the Tom that I saw was by a native who had fallen through a hole in the ice and just crawled out. He stood dripping on the edge for a moment, as though uncertain what to do; then, evidently realizing his danger, he sprang on his sledge and rode away, to reach home before he was frozen solid.
"At the suggestion of my companion we decided to go to Barnaool, which lies about three hundred miles south of the main road, and is the centre of the Russian mining region of the Altai Mountains. We remained a day at Tomsk, in order to see the Governor and obtain his permission to leave our route, which was readily granted.
"We started in the evening, and forty-four hours later drove into Barnaool and alighted at the hotel. An officer who left Tomsk a few hours in advance of us, kindly notified the station-masters of our approach, and thus caused them to have horses in readiness. If he had not done so we should have been seriously delayed, as the regulations require only three troikas to be kept at the stations on the side road, while ten are maintained along the great route. For the last part of the way the drivers took us to houses of their friends instead of going to the post-stations. The peasants through Siberia have a good many horses, and are glad to earn money in this way by transporting travellers.
"Barnaool is a prosperous town, depending partly upon the gold-mining interest, and partly upon trade with the Kirghese and other people of Central Asia. It has a Club, a Geographical Society, a large and interesting museum, together with smelting-works, factories, and machine-shops connected with the mining interests. Social conversation has a good deal to do with gold and silver and other precious things, and in summer many of the officials are absent at the mining establishments in the mountains. The society is similar to that of Irkutsk, and fully as accomplished and hospitable. They told me I was the first American that had ever been in Barnaool, and I was most heartily welcomed and made to feel at home.
"One day a gentleman invited me to call at his house, and said his daughters were under the impression that Americans were black. 'I will not undeceive them,' said he, 'and if they appear astonished when they see you, you will understand it.'
"When I called at the house and was presented to the family, I was immediately surrounded by three or four little girls, and they looked with
great curiosity at my face. Finally one of them sidled up to her mother and said something, of which I caught the words, 'Nee chorney' ("Not black")."
After Frank and Fred had laughed over this little anecdote, their informant explained that the impression that Americans were black was not confined to the family of this gentleman at the foot of the Altai Mountains. He said he had been told of it on several occasions, not only in Siberia but in European Russia; but it was almost always confined to the lower class of people, or to children who had received their information from servants.
"I had an odd experience of this impression about our national color a few years ago," said Doctor Bronson. "It was in a small city of Austria where strangers do not often penetrate, and our countrymen are not as well known as in Vienna and Paris.
"I was making a purchase in a shop, and while chatting with the sales-woman she asked my nationality. I told her I was an American. She shook her head doubtingly, and said she thought I must be an Englishman, as I 'didn't look like an American.'
"'Why don't I look like an American?' I asked.
"'There was an American gentleman here a few months ago,' said she, 'and he was just as black as your hat.'
"I didn't follow the topic further," said Doctor Bronson, "but concluded to let her have her own opinion about my national complexion."
"One of the most interesting things I saw at Barnaool," said Mr. Hegeman, resuming the subject of conversation, "was the Government Museum. I spent the greater part of a day there, and only had time to glance over the admirable collection. There is a mining department which contains models of all the machinery used in gold-mining, and in many instances the machines themselves. Some of the machines are nearly a hundred years old, and almost identical with those in use to-day. There is a letter from the Empress Elizabeth, bearing her autograph, giving directions about the working of the mines in her time; it is kept in an ivory box on the table around which the Mining Board holds its sessions. The first discoveries of precious metals in the Altai region were made by one of the Demidoffs, who was sent there by Peter the Great. A monument in the public square of Barnaool records his services and keeps his memory green.
"There are models of mines similar to those in the Mining School at St. Petersburg, so that the student can see what kind of work is before him. They showed me a steam-engine which is said to have been made at Barnaool in 1764, for the purpose of blowing the furnaces; the director of the museum claimed that it was on the principle adopted by James Watt in 1765, and therefore, he argued, the credit of the improvement upon the old engine of Newcomen should be given to Siberia rather than to Scotland.
"Very interesting was the collection of natural history, which included the skins of two enormous tigers killed a few years before in one of the Southern districts of Western Siberia. Both these tigers had histories, and were supposed to be murderers; one of them fell after a long fight in which he killed one of his assailants and wounded two others. The other tiger had sprung upon a man who was riding one horse and leading another; the man escaped by leaving the led horse for the tiger to devour. He rode to the nearest village where he could obtain weapons and assistance, and then returned to the locality of the attack. Carefully creeping through the tall grass, he found the tiger busy over his meal; every few
moments he raised his head and paused to listen for the sound of approaching footsteps, but so cautiously did the hunter proceed that he was not heard.
"He managed to get within ten yards of the ferocious beast, and then by a well-directed shot stretched him on the ground. The fame he obtained for his prowess, and the money from the sale of the shin to the museum, compensated him for the loss of the horse, but it must be remembered that he ran a great risk in searching for the tiger as he did.
"There were in the museum some fine specimens (stuffed) of the bearcoot, an enormous eagle of the Altai Mountains. It is considerably larger than the American eagle, and strong enough to kill easily a deer or a wolf. The Kirghese tame these eagles and employ them for hunting purposes, just as hawks were employed in England centuries ago. A bearcoot will swoop down upon a full-grown deer and kill him in a few minutes; a deer running at full speed can be overtaken by a bearcoot in a course of little more than a mile, when he has the advantage of fully a mile at the start.
"Sometimes when a pack of wolves has run down a deer and killed it, a pair of bearcoots will appear and take possession of the game. Two bearcoots are a match for a dozen wolves, and the latter acknowledge their inferiority by getting out of the way immediately.
"Some experiments on the power of the bearcoot to resist poison were made at Barnaool shortly before my visit. Half a grain of curara (deadly
poison from Brazil) had no effect beyond increasing the bird's appetite. Four grains of strychnine caused his feathers to tremble fifteen minutes after swallowing the stuff, and five hours later threw him into convulsions from which he recovered next day. A week later seven grains of curara had no effect upon him for two days; then he went into convulsions, which lasted several hours and ended with his death.
"But we are staying too long at Barnaool, and must go to the road again. From Barnaool we went northward and westward to Tumen over the great Baraba Steppe; it is but a steppe from one place to the other, but the distance is a thousand miles, and we were a week in making it. We were caught in a bouran, or storm, analagous to the Texas norther or the bora of Trieste. The wind blew violently, the snow whirled in blinding masses; the road was so buried that several times we lost our way, and finally concluded it safest to wait at a station till the storm was over. Happily we were not long delayed.
"In summer these bourans or ouragans (a word which is probably of the same origin as hurricane) are sometimes so severe that they sweep dry the bed of a small river in a few minutes, and create large clouds of dust as they pass over the land. The one we encountered was from the south, and therefore warm. A northern bouran in winter is something terrific, as the thermometer goes very low and the intense cold added to the wind is destructive to animal life. Men and horses have been lost in these bourans, and I was cautioned not to venture to face them if I could avoid doing so.
"Many Tartars live on the Baraba Steppe, but we saw few of them, as we changed horses at the houses of the Russian peasants. There was formerly a very small population of Russians on the steppe between Tumen and Tomsk; the Governor-general of Siberia persuaded Catherine the Great to give him all the conscripts of a levy instead of sending them to the army. He settled them with their families in villages along the route across the steppe, and the present population consists of the descendants of these people, together with exiles and voluntary emigrants of the present century.
"Grain is produced in abundance on the steppe. Wheat, rye, and oats are often as low as ten or twenty cents a bushel, as there is no market for produce beyond what can be sold to travellers. A railway is one of the hopes of the future, and when it comes the steppe will be prosperous. A great deal of hemp and flax is raised there; I bought about sixty feet of half-inch rope for thirty cents at one station, and afterwards learned that I paid too much. Our harness was constantly breaking, and every few days it was necessary to buy a quantity of rope for purposes of repair. A Russian mujik will perform wonders of harness-mending if you give him plenty of rope.
"I will not weary you with describing in detail the rest of the long sleigh-ride. Through Tumen we went without delay, and from that place to Ekaterineburg we had no incident of consequence. At Ekaterineburg we stopped a day, and passed several hours among the shops devoted to the sale of semi-precious stones, which are cut into all sorts of fantastic shapes. The town is as famous for these things as is Cologne for the perfumed spirit that bears its name, Naples for coral, or Benares for brassware. More than a thousand workmen are engaged by private employers or by the Government in this industry. The Granilnoi Fabric, or Government Lapidary Establishment, was closed at the time of my visit, which happened during Christmas week. I understand it has since been sold, and is now in private hands.
"Itinerant dealers in the streets offer the cut crystals to strangers, and the waiters at the hotels have stocks of them for sale. The collections at the dealers are a bewildering array of amethyst, beryl, topaz, tourmaline, chalcedony, jasper, aquamarine, malachite, quartz, and other stones. There are seals, paper-weights, beads, vases, statuettes, brooches, buttons, charms, and an endless variety of ornamental things.
"There were imitations of leaves, flowers, and grapes tastefully arranged together, and formed of differently colored stones; there were miniature caves and grottos in which the stones were artistically grouped; and there were busts of the Emperor of Russia and other high personages in the Empire, together with busts of the reigning sovereigns of Europe. Learning that I was an American, the proprietor of one establishment showed me a half-finished bust of President Lincoln cut in topaz and about six inches high.
"We left Ekaterineburg one evening, and about midnight passed the ridge of the Ural Mountains and entered European Russia. The Urals at this point are a succession of low hills covered with fir-trees, and as you look at the range from Ekaterineburg you would not suspect you were in the neighborhood of mountains. North and south of this point the mountains become more steep, but they
WESTERN SLOPE OF THE URAL MOUNTAINS.
nowhere attain to great heights. All this part of the Urals is rich in minerals; there are extensive mines of iron, copper, and gold, those of iron being of the greatest, and the gold-mines of the least importance.
"A very large part of all the iron used in Russia comes from the Urals, and the same is the case with the copper. The copper-money of the Empire is coined at the Moneta Fabric, or mint, at Ekaterineburg, and from an immense foundery a few miles away comes the Russian sheet-iron which is so popular in America for the manufacture of parlor stoves and stove-pipe. The Urals contain the only mines where malachite is found in quantities of any consequence, and when you look at a piece of this beautiful oxide of copper you can be almost absolutely certain that it came from the neighborhood of Ekaterineburg. A mass of malachite weighing more than four hundred tons was found there about the middle of the present century, the largest single piece ever discovered.
"At the boundary between European and Asiatic Russia there is a stone monument with the word EUROPE on one side and ASIA on the other. It is only seventeen hundred feet above the level of the sea, and was erected to commemorate the visit of the Emperor Alexander I. to his Siberian dominions. I stepped from the sleigh and stood for a few moments with a foot in either continent, but though I made careful observation I could not discover any difference between the soil, climate, productions, manners, customs, or social conditions of the Occident and Orient of the Old World.
"Down the Western slope of the Urals we drove as fast as our horses could carry us, making brief halts to change horses at the stations, jumping oukhabas that threatened to shake us and our vehicles to pieces, repelling the advances of beggars that solicited us at every stopping-place, riding sometimes for many miles at a time between double rows of birch-trees which the Government has planted to mark the roads and prevent the snow from drifting, and now and then coming temporarily to grief through the breaking of our harness. We found the stations more numerous and more commodious than in Asiatic Russia, the country more densely peopled, and as the days of fasting had given way to days of feasting, we found an abundance of provisions wherever we stopped. We carried now only our tea and sugar, as everything else was easy to procure.
"We passed through Perm at night and in a snow-storm, and my recollections of the place are consequently few. From Kazan my road lay along the frozen surface of the Volga to Nijni Novgorod, where the sleigh-ride was to terminate.
"Sometimes the sleigh was left on the ice of the river while the drivers went to the station on the bank to change horses, and sometimes it was driven up the sloping road and then down again. Going up was all right, but descending was occasionally perilous.
"The sleigh manifested a tendency to go faster than the horses; there was usually no protecting wall or rail at the outer edge of the slope, and more than once we narrowly escaped being pitched down a steep cliff of frozen earth to the solid ice fifty or a hundred feet below. At such times the way of safety lay in forcing the horses ahead, in the hope that they would overcome the sideling motion of the sleigh. As there was a chance that they might stumble, and throw horses, sleigh, passengers, baggage, and driver all in a heap, the alternative was nearly as bad as the preliminary danger.
"On the 6th of January we passed several places where baptizings through the ice were in progress. This is one of the days that the Church
consecrates to baptismal ceremonies, and throughout the Empire many thousands of devout worshippers are plunged into the icy water. We did not stop to witness the ceremony, but caught a glimpse of a priest reading from a book, while another was holding by the hands a man whose head just rose above the surface of the water. As fast as the baptized ones emerged from the hole through the ice they ran rapidly to the village, a short distance away.
"There at last are the domes of Nijni Novgorod, and there I say farewell to my sleigh.
"I have passed two hundred and nine stations, with as many changes
of horses and drivers. More than seven hundred horses have been attached to my sleigh, and drawn me over a road of all degrees of goodness and badness. In forty days from Irkutsk I have spent sixteen in the towns and villages on the way. I have slept twenty-six nights in my sleigh, with the thermometer varying all the way from 35° above zero to 44° below, and have passed through four severe storms and perhaps a dozen small ones.
"Including the detour to Barnaool, my sleigh-ride was thirty-six hundred miles long. From Stratensk around by Kiachta to Irkutsk I travelled about fourteen hundred miles in wheeled vehicles, so that altogether my land journey from the steamboat at Stratensk to the railway at Nijni covers a distance of five thousand miles.
"And now," said Mr. Hegeman, in conclusion, "if you want to cross Siberia you can do it more easily than when I made the journey. From Perm, which you can reach by steamboat in summer, there is a railway to Ekaterineburg, and it will shortly be finished to Tumen, if it is not already.[1] From Tumen take a steamboat to Tomsk, if you don't mind roughing it a little, and from Tomsk your land journey need not be
terrifying. You can easily make out the rest of the route by taking my own in reverse. Whether you descend the Amoor or cross the Desert of Gobi to Peking, you will have enough of novelty to compensate you for the fatigue."
The youths thanked Mr. Hegeman most heartily for the entertaining account he had given them of his journey through Siberia. Doctor Bronson added his acknowledgment to that of the youths, and the thoughts of the party were again turned to what was occurring around them.
- ↑ Since the above was written, the author has received a letter from M. Nicolai Ostrowski, Director of the Ural Railway, which says, "Since October 1, 1878, Perm and Ekaterineburg have been united by the Ural Railway. Since January 1, 1886, trains have been running regularly between Ekaterineburg and Tumen. A line is under construction from Samara to Ufa, which will probably be extended to Ekaterineburg or Tcheliabinsk, to form a direct line in the direction of Omsk, the capital of Occidental Siberia."