A SUMMER ON THE YENESEI 13 



It was my first walk alone in Asia, and perhaps I 

 should not have been surprised if a red-throated thrush 

 or a blue-rumped chat had crossed my path. But 

 here were willow-warblers talking English with only a 

 slight foreign accent, and reed-warblers, and a couple 

 of magpies who cursed in their familiar jargon when 

 a hand was thrust into their nest. The bluethroat 

 was the only stranger, and even his song was in the 

 dialect of the nightingale. Soon, however, the 

 mosquitoes fairly drove me out of the thicket. If 

 Siberia is ever in need of a national emblem, she 

 cannot do better than to quarter her arms with a 

 cloud of mosquitoes rampant. I think the number of 

 mosquitoes in the Yenesei valley alone must outnumber 

 the insects in all the rest of the world put together ! 

 They swarmed not only in the swamps, but likewise 

 in the town. Along the riverside a number of brown- 

 faced boys were fishing. Even they were tormented 

 by the plague, and by each rod burnt a little green- 

 wood fire to smoke away the insects. 



At five o'clock next morning Mr. Hall arrived with 

 the luggage. He had had a very uncomfortable time on 

 the journey, for, at the last, he had been unable to find 

 a place on the steamer herself, and was obliged to travel 

 on the lighter that she towed behind her. Here he 

 found that he was expected to share a cabin with some 

 fisher-folk who had the poor Russian's usual dislike to 

 fresh air, and accordingly he had preferred to sleep when 

 and where he could on deck. 



A good deal of the forenoon was taken up in 

 readjusting our luggage and in looking at the Museum. 



