SOCIETY AT YENESEISK 271 



two spoons, but only one plate. We reached Yeneseisk 

 at 9 A.M. on Thursday the 5th of April, having been 

 nearly forty-eight hours in travelling 330 versts, in 

 consequence of the thaw in the earlier part of the journey. 

 There were thirteen stages in all. 



Arrived at Yeneseisk we took rooms at the house of 

 a M. Panikoroffsky, and enjoyed a few days rest. We 

 had brilliant sunshine, with the thermometer at or near 

 zero, and we were told that there was no great hurry, 

 that we might expect to have a month's frost in which to 

 travel to Turukansk. 



By this time we had sledged 3646 versts, or 2431 

 miles, and had fairly earned a rest. We had plenty of 

 visitors. First, there was Mr. Boiling, a Heligolander, 

 who left his native island thirty- five years ago. He was 

 a boat-builder who spoke German very well and knew 

 enough English to make his way. Then there was M. 

 Marks, a Pole, an elderly man, a political exile. He was 

 a photographer, a dealer in mathematical instruments, an 

 astronomer, a botanist, had had a university education, 

 and spoke French, though somewhat rustily. A most 

 active, useful little man was the head of the police, who 

 offered to do anything for us, but unfortunately he only 

 spoke Russian. Then there was Schwanenberg, the 

 captain of Sideroff s schooner, who was on his way down 

 the river. He spoke English and German. The 

 telegraph-master also spoke German, so that altogether 

 we had no difficulty in finding society. 



There were very few birds at Yeneseisk during our 

 stay. Magpies were plentiful. There were no jackdaws. 

 House- and tree-sparrows were very abundant, and in 

 equal numbers. The carrion crow was very common. 

 Boiling told me that about three years ago a pair or two 

 of hooded crows paid a visit to Yeneseisk, and were most 



