﻿THE 
  FAR 
  EASTERN 
  REPUBLIC 
  

  

  583 
  

  

  SIBERIAN 
  PEASANTS 
  NEAR 
  RAZDOEN 
  

  

  These 
  are 
  men 
  of 
  the 
  type 
  who 
  form 
  the 
  "partizan" 
  bands 
  that 
  carry 
  on 
  the 
  irregular 
  warfare 
  

   in 
  that 
  part 
  of 
  Russia 
  which 
  Dostoievsky 
  called 
  the 
  "House 
  of 
  the 
  Dead." 
  

  

  miles 
  of 
  the 
  Chinese 
  Eastern 
  Railroad, 
  

   which 
  also 
  belongs 
  to 
  Russia. 
  They 
  are 
  

   more 
  of 
  a 
  liability 
  than 
  an 
  asset. 
  

  

  As 
  a 
  part 
  of 
  the 
  Transsiberian, 
  the 
  sys- 
  

   tem 
  of 
  an 
  empire 
  stretching 
  across 
  two 
  

   continents, 
  these 
  miles 
  of 
  road 
  give 
  access 
  

   to 
  the 
  Pacific. 
  They 
  are 
  more 
  than 
  the 
  

   republic 
  will 
  need 
  for 
  many 
  years 
  to 
  

   come. 
  

  

  The 
  1,438 
  miles 
  of 
  the 
  Amur 
  road 
  

   parallel 
  the 
  river 
  through 
  tracts 
  of 
  virgin 
  

   forest, 
  a 
  country 
  rich 
  in 
  gold 
  and 
  coal, 
  

   but 
  undeveloped. 
  

  

  Geologists 
  say 
  that 
  there 
  is 
  not 
  a 
  150- 
  

   mile 
  stretch 
  along 
  this 
  road 
  where 
  coal 
  

   cannot 
  be 
  mined. 
  It 
  was 
  constructed 
  for 
  

   military 
  purposes, 
  and 
  when 
  the 
  war 
  

   broke 
  out 
  much 
  of 
  it 
  had 
  not 
  been 
  bal- 
  

   lasted. 
  

  

  THE 
  REPUBLIC 
  IS 
  ONE-TWENTIETH 
  OE 
  

   FORMER 
  RUSSIAN 
  EMPIRE 
  

  

  When 
  daylight 
  is 
  fading 
  and 
  the 
  long 
  

   shadows 
  stretching 
  across 
  the 
  plains, 
  one 
  

   realizes 
  the 
  vastness 
  of 
  Siberia 
  — 
  pano- 
  

   rama 
  of 
  a 
  gently 
  undulating, 
  silent 
  sea, 
  

   green 
  and 
  brown 
  or 
  unending 
  white. 
  

  

  The 
  area 
  of 
  the 
  Far 
  Eastern 
  Republic 
  

  

  is 
  450,000 
  square 
  miles, 
  larger 
  than 
  Texas 
  

   and 
  California 
  combined, 
  yet 
  it 
  is 
  only 
  

   the 
  southeast 
  corner 
  of 
  Siberia, 
  one-twen- 
  

   tieth 
  of 
  the 
  former 
  Russian 
  Empire. 
  

  

  From 
  Vladivostok, 
  on 
  the 
  coast, 
  to 
  

   Verkhne-Udinsk, 
  on 
  the 
  republic's 
  west- 
  

   ern 
  boundary, 
  is 
  more 
  than 
  1,700 
  miles 
  

   by 
  rail, 
  and 
  little 
  more 
  than 
  one-third 
  of 
  

   Siberia 
  has 
  been 
  crossed. 
  

  

  Usually 
  the 
  train 
  is 
  the 
  only 
  sign 
  of 
  

   life. 
  As 
  far 
  as 
  the 
  eye 
  can 
  see, 
  the 
  tele- 
  

   graph 
  poles 
  stand 
  sentry 
  along 
  the 
  wind- 
  

   ing 
  railroad, 
  fading 
  away 
  in 
  the 
  distance. 
  

  

  Everywhere 
  are 
  the 
  scars 
  of 
  war. 
  It 
  

   may 
  be 
  a 
  locomotive, 
  rusty 
  and 
  half 
  cov- 
  

   ered 
  with 
  sand, 
  lying 
  in 
  the 
  ditch 
  where 
  

   it 
  plunged 
  with 
  its 
  human 
  freight. 
  It 
  may 
  

   be 
  the 
  skeleton 
  of 
  a 
  train, 
  deserted 
  on 
  a 
  

   side 
  track, 
  burned 
  except 
  for 
  the 
  steel 
  

   framework 
  of 
  cars 
  and 
  trucks. 
  Twisted 
  

   rails, 
  wrecked 
  bridges, 
  or 
  shattered 
  frag- 
  

   ments, 
  where 
  an 
  ammunition 
  train 
  has 
  

   blown 
  up, 
  vary 
  the 
  picture. 
  

  

  A 
  peasant's 
  wagon, 
  with 
  shaggy 
  gal- 
  

   loping 
  ponies 
  and 
  the 
  invariable 
  dog 
  trot- 
  

   ting 
  behind, 
  is 
  a 
  sign 
  that 
  a 
  village 
  is 
  near. 
  

   The 
  lamps 
  on 
  the 
  station 
  platform 
  are 
  

   gone 
  and 
  semaphores 
  stand 
  with 
  broken 
  

  

  