On the second morning we stopped at Tulemsk to deliver several boxes that enc.u.mbered the sleighs. The servants have a way of putting small articles, and sometimes large ones, in the forward end of the vehicle.

They are no special annoyance to a person of short stature, but in my own case I was not reconciled to the practice. A Russian sleigh is shaped somewhat like a laundry smoothing-iron, much narrower forward than aft, so that a traveler does not usually find the s.p.a.ce beneath the driver a world too wide for his shrunk shanks.

We thawed out over a steaming samovar with plenty of hot tea. The lady of the house brought a bottle of nalifka of such curious though agreeable flavor that I asked of what fruit it was made. "Nothing but orange peel," was the reply. Every Siberian housewife considers it her duty to prepare a goodly supply of nalifka during the autumn. A gla.s.s jar holding two or three gallons is filled to the neck with any kind of fruit or berries, currants and gooseberries being oftenest used.

The jar is then filled with native whisky, and placed in a southern window where it is exposed to the sunlight and the heat of the room for ten days. The whisky is then poured off, mixed with an equal quant.i.ty of water, placed in a kettle with a pound of sugar to each gallon, and boiled for a few minutes. When cooled and strained it is bottled and goes to the cellar. Many Siberians prefer nalifka to foreign wines, and a former governor-general attempted to make it fashionable. He eschewed imported wine and subst.i.tuted nalifka, but his example was not imitated to the extent he desired.

Our halt consumed three or four hours. After we started an unfortunate pig was found entangled in the framework of my sleigh, and before we could let him out he was pretty well bruised and shaken up. How he came there we were puzzled to know, but I do not believe he ever willingly troubled a sleigh again.

We encountered many caravans of sleds laden with merchandise. They were made up much like the trains I described between Kiachta and Lake Baikal, there being four or five sleds to each man. The horses generally guided themselves, and followed their leaders with great fidelity. While we were stopping to make some repairs near the foot of a hill, I was interested in the display of equine intelligence. As a caravan reached the top of the hill each horse stopped till the one preceding him had descended. Holding back as if restrained by reins he walked half down the descent, and then finished the hill and crossed the hollow below it at a trot. One after another pa.s.sed in this manner without guidance, exactly as if controlled by a driver.

I noticed that the horses were quite skillful in selecting the best parts of the road. I have occasionally seen a horse pause when there were three or four tracks through the snow, and make his choice with apparent deliberation. I recollect a school boy composition that declared in its first sentence, 'the horse is a n.o.ble animal,' but I never knew until I traveled in Siberia how much he is ent.i.tled to a patent of n.o.bility.

In the daytime we had little trouble with these caravans, as they generally gave us the road on hearing our bells. If the way was wide the horses usually turned aside of their own accord; where it was narrow they were unwilling to step in the snow, and did not until directed by their drivers. If the latter were dilatory our yemshicks turned aside and revenged themselves by lashing some of the sled horses and all the drivers they could reach. In the night we found more difficulty as the caravan horses desired to keep the road, and their drivers were generally asleep. We were b.u.mped against innumerable sleds in the hours of darkness. The outriggers alone prevented our sleighs going to pieces. The trains going eastward carried a.s.sorted cargoes of merchandise for Siberia and China. Those traveling westward were generally loaded with tea in chests, covered with cowhide. The amount of traffic over the princ.i.p.al road through Siberia is very large.

When we halted for dinner I brought a bottle of champagne from, my sleigh. It was the best of the 'Cliquot' brand and frozen as solid as a block of ice. It stood half an hour in a warm room before thawing enough to drip slowly into our gla.s.ses and was the most perfect _champagne frappe_ I ever saw. A bottle of cognac was a great deal colder than ordinary ice, and when we brought it into the station the moisture in the warm room congealed upon it to the thickness of card-board. After this display I doubted the existence of latent heat in alcohol.

Just as we finished dinner the post with five vehicles was announced.

We hastened to put on our furs and sprang into the sleighs with the least possible delay. There was no fear that we should lose the first and second set of horses, but the last one might be taken for the post as the ladies had only a third-cla.s.s padaroshnia. The yemshicks were as anxious to escape as ourselves, as the business of carrying the mail does not produce navodka. The post between Irkutsk and Krasnoyarsk pa.s.ses twice a week each way, and we frequently encountered it. Where it had just pa.s.sed a station there was occasionally a scarcity of horses that delayed us till village teams were brought.

A postillion accompanies each convoy, and is responsible for its security. Travelers sometimes purchase tickets and have their vehicles accompany the post, but in so doing their patience is pretty severely taxed. The postillion is a soldier or other government employe, and must be armed to repel robbers. One of these conductors was a boy of fourteen who appeared under heavy responsibility. I watched him loading a pistol at a station and was amused at his ostentatious manner. When the operation was completed he fixed the weapon in his belt and swaggered out with the air of the heavy tragedian at the Old Bowery. Another postillion stuck around with pistols and knives looked like a military museum on its travels.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE CONDUCTOR.]

From our dining station we left the main road, and traveled several versts along the frozen surface of the Birusa river. The snow lay in ridges, and as we drove rapidly over them we were tossed like a yawl in a hopping sea. It was a foretaste of what was in store for me at later periods of my journey. The Birusa is rich in gold deposits, and the government formerly maintained extensive mining establishments in its valley.

About nine o'clock in the evening we voted to take tea. On entering the station I found the floor covered with a dormant ma.s.s, exhaling an odor not altogether spicy. I b.u.mped my head against a sort of wide shelf suspended eighteen or twenty inches from the ceiling, and sustaining several sleepers.

"Here" said Paul, "is another _chambre a coucher_" as he attempted to pull aside a curtain at the top of the brick stove. A female head and shoulders were exposed for an instant, until a stout hand grasped and retained the curtain. The suspended shelf or false ceiling is quite common in the peasant houses, and especially at the stations. The yemshicks and other attaches of the concern are lodged here and on the floor, beds being a luxury they rarely obtain. Frequently a small house would be as densely packed as the steerage of a pa.s.senger ship, and I never desired to linger in these crowded apartments. A Russian house has little or no ventilation, and the effect of a score of sleepers on the air of a room is 'better imagined than described.'

On the road west of Irkutsk the rules require each smotretal to keep ten teams or thirty horses, ready for use. Many of them have more than that number, and the villages can supply any ordinary demand after the regular force is exhausted. Fourteen yemshicks are kept at every station, and always ready for service. They are boarded at the expense of the smotretal, and receive about five roubles each per month, with as much drink-money as they can obtain. Frequently they make two journeys a day to the next station, returning without loads. They appeared on the most amiable terms with each other, and I saw no quarreling over their work.

On our first and second nights from Irkutsk the weather was cold, the thermometer standing at fifteen or twenty degrees below zero. On the third day the temperature rose quite rapidly, and by noon it was just below the freezing point. Our furs designed for cold weather became uncomfortably warm, and I threw off my outer garments and rode in my sheepskin coat. In the evening we experienced a feeling of suffocation on closing the sleigh, and were glad to open it again. We rode all night with the wind beating pleasantly against our faces, and from time to time lost our consciousness in sleep. For nearly two days the warm weather continued, and subjected us to inconveniences. We did not travel as rapidly as in the colder days, the road being less favorable, and the horses diminishing their energy with the increased warmth. Some of our provisions were in danger of spoiling as they were designed for transportation only in a frozen state.

Between Nijne Udinsk and Kansk the snow was scanty, and the road occasionally bad. The country preserved its slightly undulating character, and presented no features of interest. Where we found sufficient snow we proceeded rapidly, sometimes leaving the summer road and taking to the open ground, and forests on either side. We pitched into a great many _oukhabas_, a.n.a.lagous to American "hog wallows" or "cradle holes." To dash into one of these at full speed gives a shock like a boat's thumping on the sh.o.r.e. It is only with pillows, furs, and hay that a traveler can escape contusions. In mild doses _oukhabas_ are an excellent tonic, but the traveler who takes them in excess may easily imagine himself enjoying a field-day at Donnybrook Fair.

[Ill.u.s.tration: JUMPING CRADLE HOLES.]

An hour before reaching Kansk one of our horses fell dead and brought us to a sudden halt. The yemshick tried various expedients to discover signs of life but to no purpose. Paul and I formed a board of survey, and sat upon the beast; the other sleighs pa.s.sed us during our consultation, and were very soon out of sight. When satisfied that the animal, as a horse, was of no further use, the yemshick pulled him to the roadside, stripped off his harness, and proceeded with our reduced team. I asked who was responsible for the loss, and was told it was no affair of ours. The government pays for horses killed in the service of couriers, as these gentlemen compel very high speed. On a second or third rate padaroshnian the death of a horse is the loss of its owner.

Horses are not expensive in this region, an ordinary roadster being worth from fifteen to twenty roubles.

Within a mile of Kansk the road was bare of snow, and as we had but two horses to our sleigh I proposed walking into town. We pa.s.sed a long train of sleds on their way to market with loads of wood and hay. Tea was ready for us when we arrived at the station, and we were equally ready for it. After my fifth cup I walked through the public square as it was market day, and the people were in the midst of traffic. Fish, meat, hay, wood, and a great quant.i.ty of miscellaneous articles were offered for sale. In general terms the market was a sort of pocket edition of the one at Irkutsk. I practiced my knowledge of Russian in purchasing a quant.i.ty of rope to use in case of accidents.

Foreigners were not often seen there if I may judge of the curiosity with which I was regarded.

Kansk is a town of about three thousand inhabitants, and stands on the Kan, a tributary of the Yenesei. We were told there was little snow to the first station, and were advised to take five horses to each sleigh. We found the road a combination of thin snow and bare ground, the latter predominating. We proceeded very well, the yemshicks maintaining sublime indifference to the character of the track. They plied their whips vigorously in the probable expectation of drink-money. The one on my sleigh regaled us with an account of the perfectly awful condition of the road to Krasnoyarsk.

About sunset we changed horses, thirty versts from Kansk, and found no cheering prospect ahead. We drowned our sorrows in the flowing tea-cup, and fortified ourselves with a large amount of heat. Tea was the sovereign remedy for all our ills, and we used it most liberally.

We set out with misgivings and promised liberal rewards to the yemshicks, if they took us well and safely. The road was undeniably bad, with here and there a redeeming streak of goodness.

Notwithstanding the jolts I slept pretty well during the night. In the morning we took tea fifty versts from Krasnoyarsk, and learned there was absolutely no snow for the last thirty versts before reaching the city. There was fortunately a good snow road to the intervening village where we must change to wheels. Curiously enough the snow extended up to the very door of the last station, and utterly disappeared three feet beyond. Looking one way we saw bare earth, while in the other direction there was a good road for sleighing.

At this point we arranged our programme over the inevitable cakes and tea. The ladies were to leave their vashok until their return to Irkutsk ten or twelve days later. The remaining sleighs were unladen and mounted upon wheels. We piled our baggage into telyagas with the exception of a few articles that remained in the sleighs. The ladies with their maid took one wagon, while Paul and myself rode in another, the man servant conveying the sleighs. The whole arrangement was promptly effected; the villagers scented a job on our arrival, and were ready for proposals. My sleigh was lifted and fastened into a wagon about as quickly as a hackman would arrange a trunk. _Place aux dames toujours._ We sent away the ladies half an hour in advance of the rest of the party.

Our telyaga was a rickety affair, not half so roomy as the sleigh, but as the ride was short the discomfort was of little consequence. We had four ill conditioned steeds, but before we had gone twenty rods one of the brutes persistently faced about and attempted to come inside the vehicle, though he did not succeed. After vain efforts to set him right, the yemshick turned him loose, and he bolted homeward contentedly.

We climbed and descended a long hill near the village, and then found a level country quite free from snow, and furnishing a fine road. I was told that very little snow falls within twenty miles of Krasnoyarsk, and that it is generally necessary to use wheels there in the winter months. The reason was not explained to me, but probably the general configuration of the country is much like that near Chetah. Krasnoyarsk lies on the Yenesei which has a northerly course into the Arctic Ocean. The mountains bounding the valley are not lofty, but sufficiently high to wring the moisture from the snow clouds. Both above and below Krasnoyarsk, there is but little snow even in severe seasons.

Our animals were superbly atrocious, and made good speed only on descending grades. We were four hours going thirty versts, and for three-fourths that distance our route was equal to the Bloomingdale Road. Occasionally we saw farm houses with a dejected appearance as if the winter had come upon them unawares. From the quant.i.ty of ground enclosed by fences I judged the land was fertile, and well cultivated.

Toward sunset we saw the domes of Krasnoyarsk rising beyond the frozen Yenesei. We crossed the river on the ice, and pa.s.sed near several women engaged in rinsing clothes.

A laundress does her washing at the house, but rinses her linen at the river. In summer this may be well enough, but it seemed to me that the winter exercise of standing in a keen wind with the thermometer below zero, and rinsing clothes in a hole cut through the ice was anything but agreeable. It was a cold day, and I was well wrapped in furs, but these women were in ordinary clothing, and some had bare legs. They stood at the edges of circular holes in the ice, and after 'swashing'

the linen a short time in the water, wrung it with their purple hands.

How they escaped frost bites I cannot imagine.

The Yenesei is a magnificent river, one of the largest in Siberia. It is difficult to estimate with accuracy any distance upon ice, and I may be far from correct in considering the Yenesei a thousand yards wide at Krasnoyarsk. The telegraph wires are supported on tall masts as at the crossing of the Missouri near Kansas City. In summer there are two steamboats navigating the river from Yeneseisk to the Arctic Ocean. Rapids and shoals below Krasnoyarsk prevent their ascending to the latter town. The tributaries of the Yenesei are quite rich in gold deposits, and support a mining business of considerable extent.

Krasnoyarsk derives its name from the red hills in its vicinity, and the color of the soil where it stands. It is on the left bank of the Yenesei, and has about ten thousand inhabitants. It was nearly night when we climbed the sloping road in the hillside, and reached the level of the plateau. The ladies insisted that we should occupy their house during our stay, and utterly forbade our going to the hotel.

While walking up the hill the captain hailed a washerwoman, and asked for the residence of Madame Rodstvenny. Her reply was so voluminous, and so rapidly given that my friend was utterly bewildered, and comprehended nothing. To his astonishment I told him that I understood the direction.

"_C'est impossible_," he declared.

"By no means," I replied. "The madame lives in a stone house to the left of the gastinni dvor. The washerwoman said so."

Following my advice we found the house. As we entered the courtyard, the captain begged to know by what possibility I understood in his own language what he could not.

I explained that while the woman spoke so glibly I caught the words "_doma, kamen, na leva, gastinni dvor_." I understood only the essential part of her instruction, and was not confused by the rest.

I was somewhat reluctant to convert a private house into a hotel as I expected to remain four or five days. But Siberian hospitality does not stop at trifles, and my objections were promptly overruled. After toilet and dinner, Paul and I were parboiled in the bath house of the establishment. An able-bodied moujik scrubbed me so thoroughly as to suggest the possibility of removing the cuticle.

In the morning I went to the bank to change some large bills into one-rouble notes for use on the road. Horses must be paid for at every station, and it is therefore desirable to carry the smallest notes with abundance of silver and copper to make change. The bank was much like inst.i.tutions of its cla.s.s elsewhere, and transacted my business promptly. The banks in Siberia are branches of the Imperial Bank at St. Petersburg. They receive deposits, and negotiate exchanges and remittances just like private banks, but do not undertake risky business. The officers are servants of the government, and receive their instructions from the parent bank.

My finances arranged, I went to the telegraph office to send a message to a friend. My despatch was written in Russian, and I paid for message and response. A receipt was given me stating the day, hour, and minute of filing the despatch, its destination, address, length, and amount paid. When I received the response I found a statement of the exact time it was filed for transmission, and also of its reception at Krasnoyarsk. This is the ordinary routine of the Russian telegraph system. I commend it to the notice of interested persons in America.

There is no free telegraphing on the government lines, every despatch over the wires being paid for by somebody. If on government business the sender pays the regular tariff and is reimbursed from the treasury. I was told that the officers of the telegraph paid for their own family messages, but had the privilege of conversing on the lines free of charge. High position does not confer immunity. When the Czarevitch was married, General Korsackoff sent his congratulations by telegraph, and received a response from the Emperor. Both messages were paid for by the sender without reduction or trust.

I found the general features of Krasnoyarsk much like those of Irkutsk. Official and civilian inhabitants dressed, lived, walked, breathed, drank, and gambled like their kindred nearer the east. It happened to be market day, and the public square was densely crowded.

I was interested in observing the character and abundance of the fish offered for sale. Among those with a familiar appearance were the sturgeon, perch, and pike, and a small fish resembling our alewife.

There was a fish unknown to me, with a long snout like a duck's bill, and a body on the extreme clipper model. All these fish are from the Yenesei, some dwelling there permanently while others ascend annually from the Arctic Ocean. All in the market were frozen solid, and the larger ones were piled up like cord-wood.

From the bank overlooking the river there is a fine view of the valley of the Yenesei. There are several islands in the vicinity, and I was told that in the season of floods the stream has a very swift current.

It is no easy work to ferry across it, and the boats generally descend a mile or two while paddling over. A few years ago a resident of Krasnoyarsk made a remarkable voyage on this river. He had been attending a wedding several miles away on the other bank, and started to return late at night so as to reach the ferry about daybreak. His equipage was a wooden telyaga drawn by two powerful horses. Having partaken of the cup that inebriates, the man fell asleep and allowed his horses to take their own course. Knowing the way perfectly they came without accident to the ferry landing, their owner still wrapped in his drunken slumber.

[Ill.u.s.tration: VALLEY OF THE YENESEI.]

The boat was on the other side, and the horses, no doubt hungry and impatient, plunged in to swim across. The telyaga filled with water, but had sufficient buoyancy not to sink. The cold bath waked and sobered the involuntary voyager when about half way over the river. He had the good sense, aided by fright, to remain perfectly still, and was landed in safety. Those who saw him coming in the early dawn were struck with astonishment, and one, at least, imagined that he beheld Neptune in his marine chariot breasting the waters of the Yenesei. My informant vouched for the correctness of the story, and gave it as an ill.u.s.tration of the courage and endurance of Siberian horses.

According to the statement of the condition of the river, the beasts could have as easily crossed the Mississippi at Memphis in an ordinary stage of water.

Wolves are abundant in the valley of the Yenesei, though they are not generally dangerous to men. An officer whom I met there told me they were less troublesome than in Poland, and he related his experience with them in the latter country while on a visit to the family of a young lady to whom he was betrothed. I give his story as nearly as possible in his own words.

"One day my friend Rasloff proposed a wolf hunt. We selected the best horses from his stable; fine, quick, surefooted beasts, with a driver who was unsurpa.s.sed in all that region for his skill and dash. The sleigh was a large one, and we fitted it with a good supply of robes and straw, and put a healthy young pig in it to serve as a decoy. We each had a gun, and carried a couple of spare guns, with plenty of ammunition, so that we could kill as many wolves as presented themselves.