EN ROUTE FOR SIBERIA 39 



Far East. Every one seemed to feel that Siberia 

 is a long way off, and the country so vast that 

 people proceeding thither are taking no inconsider- 

 able step. I am not sure whether the passengers 

 looked upon the journey with anything like appre- 

 hension ; I rather think the feeling was similar to 

 that which an Englishman might experience when 

 leaving his native country for South Africa or 

 Australia. One couple— evidently man and wife — 

 embraced each other with an expression bordering 

 on agony on their faces ; others, who were bidding 

 farewell to friends or relatives, dragged themselves 

 away with sad faces and moistened eyes as the 

 whistle blew and, all on board, the train started 

 slowly on its long journey. Having no friends of 

 our own to bid us a tearful farewell, we were merely 

 spectators. I admit, however, that I felt rather 

 sad myself as I stood at the window and watched 

 the sorrowful faces on the platform growing farther 

 and farther away as we left the station behind us. 

 After glancing at the glittering domes and spires 

 of Moscow's many churches disappearing in the 

 distance, I sat down and gave myself up to dreams 

 of what the journey had in store for me. A beautiful 

 sunset ripened my thoughts and gave tone to the 

 cold steppes. We passed by long, straggling villages 

 and occasional patches of forest land — the rest was 

 ice and snow, and again ice and snow. The signal- 

 men, armed with green and red flags, and stationed 

 every two -thirds of a mile, seemed a long chain of 

 humanity stretched across this lonely country to 

 relieve it of its cold lifelessness. There are 9,000 

 of these men stationed along the entire route from 

 Moscow to the Eastern Ocean. What a post in 

 the Siberian winter I Standing at the back of the 

 train the signalman will be seen to cross into the 

 middle of the line as soon as the train has passed 



