REMINISCENCES OF KASHGAR 235 
The members of the consulate embraced Mr. Petrovsky 
and his wife, his secretary, two military officers, a revenue 
officer, and a troop of half a hundred Cossacks. 
Adam Ignatieff, a Roman Catholic Pole, who went out 
to Kashgar ten years ago as a missionary, was still there, 
a standing guest at Mr. Petrovsky’s table. He was a fine 
old man, with a smooth-shaven face and snow-white hair, 
was dressed entirely in white, wore a rosary round his 
neck with a cross dependent from it, and looked like a 
cardinal out of office. We used to rally him over the 
dinner-table ; but he met all our allusions, even the most 
embarrassing, with a jovial smile, and resented nothing 
so long as he got his full number of drams. The only 
person who put faith in his pretensions to missionary 
zeal was himself For during all the ten years he had 
been in Kashgar he had not made a single proselyte ; 
indeed he had made no serious attempt at conversion. 
He boasted that he h^id converted one old Sart woman 
on her deathbed ; but the malicious declared that the old 
woman was already dead when he converted her. 
During the following winter Adam Ignatieff often used 
to visit me in the evening ; and many was the lonely 
hour he thus helped to shorten by his conversation. We 
would both sit over the fire till well on into the nig^ht, 
and he would relate to me the various episodes of his 
adventurous life. He told me how, during the Polish 
Rebellion, he had helped to hang a Russian priest ; for 
which deed he was banished to Siberia, and remained 
there about thirty years. He was of noble blood, and 
belonged to the family of Dogvillo. But he was then 
living half a wastrel in Kashgar, a lonely man, forgotten, 
friendless, with none to care for him or take any interest 
in him, with none to shed a tear over his grave, when 
the end of his days should come. Nevertheless he was 
always cheerful, always friendly and jovial, perfectly 
contented with his lot. And so we used to sit, talking 
over the fire, like a couple of hermits. 
I also found in Kashgar another old friend in Father 
Hendricks. He was in all respects a remarkable man. 
