REACH IRKUTSK. 295 



barred windows. At every wayside station we jumped 

 out in company with our fellow-passengers — Germans, 

 Russians, Frenchmen, Swedes, and Danes — to stretch 

 our legs during the liberal waits, and on one occa- 

 sion two of our companions indulged in a little mild 

 revolver practice in the forest close by, by way of 

 passing the time ! At last, however, on the morn- 

 ing of the fourth day after leaving Ob, we ran into 

 a large suburb with busy station harbouring a number 

 of trains, crept cautiously across the Angara by a 

 wooden bridge plastered with notices forbidding smok- 

 ing, and liberally supplied with barrels of water, to 

 draw up finally alongside of the stone buildings of 

 the station of Irkutsk beyond. 



The train goes on for another forty odd miles to 

 Baikal ; but Irkutsk is worthy of some remark, and 

 before continuing my journey across the great lake 

 and through Manchuria, I must conclude this chapter 

 by devoting a few words to it. 



Irkutsk, like most towns in a new country, began 

 life in a humble way. One Ivan Pakhoboff reached 

 the river Irkut in 1652 while engaged in collecting 

 tribute from the Buriats in the shape of furs, and 

 established an intrenched post on its banks, where- 

 fore it is called Irkutsk to this day. It was not 

 destined, however, to remain on its original site, for 

 it was afterwards transferred to the banks of the 

 Angara, and in 1686 became a town. Now it is the 

 second city in all Siberia, and far the most imposing in 

 appearance, the seat of a governor-general of 2,807,626 

 square miles of territory, the proud possessor of up- 

 wards of sixty houses of worship, of the very credit- 

 able number of forty-five educational institutions, of 

 an admirable museum, of a theatre that cost close 

 upon £30,000, and of a gold-smelting laboratory which 



