﻿THE 
  FAR 
  EASTERN 
  REPUBLIC 
  

  

  keepsakes 
  — 
  a 
  once 
  gaily 
  gilded 
  ikon, 
  odd 
  

   spoons, 
  photographs 
  in 
  frames, 
  half 
  a 
  

   dozen 
  Russian 
  books, 
  a 
  pair 
  of 
  earrings 
  

   in 
  a 
  plush 
  case, 
  and 
  the 
  knickknacks 
  

   which 
  are 
  dear 
  to 
  motherly 
  hearts. 
  

  

  In 
  one 
  hand 
  she 
  held 
  a 
  silver 
  creamer, 
  

   worn 
  by 
  many 
  years 
  of 
  faithful 
  service. 
  

   It 
  was 
  gay 
  with 
  ornate 
  flowers 
  and 
  scrolls, 
  

   while 
  across 
  its 
  front 
  "To 
  our 
  loving 
  

   mother 
  from 
  the 
  children" 
  had 
  been 
  en- 
  

   graved 
  in 
  Russian. 
  Certainly, 
  in 
  those 
  

   happy 
  days 
  of 
  long 
  ago, 
  there 
  had 
  been 
  

   no 
  thought 
  that 
  the 
  mother 
  would 
  some 
  

   time 
  carry 
  it 
  to 
  the 
  tawdry 
  barakholka. 
  

  

  Two 
  soldiers 
  elbowed 
  through 
  the 
  

   crowd. 
  One 
  was 
  carrying 
  a 
  ponderous 
  

   silver 
  watch 
  with 
  a 
  flimsy 
  gold 
  chain 
  and 
  

   locket 
  of 
  cheap 
  enamel. 
  It 
  was 
  10 
  gold 
  

   roubles 
  ($5) 
  for 
  the 
  outfit, 
  and 
  the 
  owner 
  

   was 
  profuse 
  in 
  his 
  assurances 
  that 
  the 
  

   timepiece 
  was 
  reliable. 
  The 
  face 
  of 
  his 
  

   companion 
  was 
  wreathed 
  in 
  smiles. 
  He 
  

   had 
  been 
  one 
  of 
  the 
  guards 
  on 
  our 
  train 
  

   into 
  Chita 
  the 
  previous 
  night. 
  His 
  greet- 
  

   ing 
  was 
  as 
  effusive 
  as 
  if 
  he 
  were 
  meeting 
  

   a 
  friend 
  of 
  a 
  lifetime. 
  

  

  "I 
  just 
  sold 
  my 
  gold 
  watch 
  for 
  25 
  rou- 
  

   bles," 
  he 
  explained. 
  "It 
  was 
  a 
  present 
  

   when 
  I 
  was 
  graduated 
  from 
  the 
  university 
  

   in 
  Petrograd, 
  four 
  years 
  ago, 
  but 
  we've 
  

   had 
  no 
  pay 
  for 
  two 
  months 
  and 
  my 
  wife 
  

   needs 
  other 
  things 
  more 
  than 
  the 
  watch. 
  

   Tonight 
  I'll 
  take 
  her 
  to 
  the 
  theater 
  and 
  

   we 
  can 
  get 
  along 
  until 
  there 
  is 
  some 
  

   money 
  for 
  us." 
  

  

  A 
  swarthy 
  son 
  of 
  the 
  Caucasus, 
  with 
  a 
  

   handful 
  of 
  neatly 
  folded 
  Soviet 
  paper 
  

   money 
  and 
  a 
  leather 
  pouch 
  hanging 
  over 
  

   his 
  shoulder, 
  stopped 
  to 
  listen. 
  

  

  "A 
  10,000-rouble 
  Moscow 
  bill 
  for 
  2 
  

   roubles 
  80 
  kopecks, 
  silver 
  (40 
  cents)," 
  he 
  

   offered. 
  

  

  "How 
  much 
  sugar 
  will 
  your 
  10,000 
  

   Moscow 
  roubles 
  buy?" 
  asked 
  a 
  working- 
  

   man. 
  The 
  money-changer 
  shook 
  his 
  head 
  

   and 
  the 
  crowd 
  guffawed. 
  

  

  THEY 
  JEST 
  AS 
  THEY 
  FACE) 
  STARVATION 
  

  

  We 
  worked 
  our 
  way 
  on 
  down 
  the 
  line. 
  

   A 
  middle-aged 
  man 
  was 
  joking 
  with 
  a 
  

   woman 
  holding 
  a 
  worn 
  corset, 
  which 
  she 
  

   offered 
  for 
  3 
  silver 
  roubles. 
  

  

  "A 
  handsome 
  young 
  lady 
  like 
  you 
  can't 
  

   go 
  to 
  the 
  dance 
  without 
  her 
  corset," 
  he 
  

   was 
  saying. 
  

  

  "There 
  isn't 
  enough 
  in 
  my 
  stomach 
  to 
  

  

  BURIAT 
  CITIZENS 
  OF 
  THE 
  FAR 
  EASTERN 
  

   REPUBLIC 
  

  

  The 
  Buriat-Mongols, 
  among 
  whom 
  are 
  some 
  

   of 
  the 
  most 
  thrifty, 
  reliable, 
  and 
  well-edu- 
  

   cated 
  citizens 
  of 
  the 
  republic, 
  have 
  been 
  ac- 
  

   corded 
  special 
  political 
  recognition 
  by 
  the 
  new 
  

   government 
  (see 
  text, 
  page 
  590). 
  

  

  need 
  a 
  corset," 
  the 
  woman 
  spiritedly 
  re- 
  

   torted. 
  The 
  crowd 
  applauded 
  her. 
  

  

  To 
  one 
  side, 
  back 
  of 
  the 
  line 
  and 
  away 
  

   from 
  the 
  jostling 
  crowd, 
  a 
  couple 
  bent 
  

   with 
  age 
  were 
  sitting 
  on 
  an 
  iron 
  bed. 
  a 
  

   brightly 
  polished 
  brass 
  samovar 
  between 
  

   them. 
  It 
  was 
  for 
  sale, 
  with 
  its 
  story 
  of 
  

   many 
  years 
  in 
  the 
  quiet 
  Russian 
  home. 
  

   A 
  Russian 
  home 
  is 
  no 
  longer 
  a 
  home 
  

   without 
  its 
  samovar. 
  The 
  old 
  man 
  ea- 
  

   gerly 
  explained 
  that 
  his 
  wife 
  had 
  taken 
  it 
  

   to 
  the 
  river 
  that 
  morning 
  and 
  polished 
  it 
  

   with 
  sand. 
  

  

  "Yes, 
  this 
  is 
  our 
  bed," 
  he 
  answered. 
  

   "We've 
  slept 
  on 
  it 
  many 
  years 
  and 
  our 
  

  

  