Am'\p°riir'  i9%rm'  J  An  Iodinc  Factory  w  Eastern  Siberia.  247 
was  full  of  pot.  perman.  solution;  it  brought  back  pleasant  memories 
of  a  little  room  behind  the  shop  of  a  lady  chemist,  where  I  did  most 
of  my  work  for  the  Minor.  But  it  was  getting  dark,  the  assistant 
manager  was  waiting  to  shut  up  and  go  home.  We  had  nothing  so 
cheerful  to  look  forward  to,  and  it  was  coming  on  to  rain. 
We  took  shelter  under  a  rock  for  some  hours,  and  ate  our  supper 
of  eggs  and  stale  bread  and  butter  brought  with  us  from  the  day 
before.  At  ten  o'clock  we  were  rather  wet,  and  went  down  to  the 
pier  to  inquire  if  the  boat  was  soon  due.  Nobody  knew,  which  is 
usually  the  case  in  Russia.  After  hanging  round  for  another  hour 
the  postman  came  down  with  the  news  that  the  boat  had  not  left 
Vladivostok,  and  there  was  something  wrong  with  the  engine.  Our 
only  way  home  was  by  talaga,  the  way  we  had  come,  and  no  driver 
would  think  of  starting  off  in  the  deluge  which  was  now  beginning, 
the  rain  coming  down  in  bucketfuls  at  a  time.  We  rushed  to  the 
nearest  Korean  hut  for  shelter,  and  were  shown  into  a  tiny  room 
about  four  yards  square,  where  already  about  a  dozen  people  were 
waiting.  The  place  had  no  ventilation,  except  the  door,  and  was 
lighted  by  a  glimmer  from  an  evil-smelling  oil  lamp.  It  was  un- 
pleasant for  us,  but  far  more  so  for  the  poor  farmers  who  in  many 
cases  had  come  two  or  three  days'  journey  with  their  cattle.  Only 
in  Russia  would  people  have  taken  things  so  placidly.  We  our- 
selves were  not  in  at  all  a  good  temper.  Those  who  have  only 
ridden  in  carts  along  even  the  worst  English  road  cannot  imagine 
the  discomfort  of  travelling  in  Chinese  carts.  These  consist  of 
shafts,  four  wheels,  and  some  planks  of  wood  laid  across  the  axles. 
The  roads  are  only  rough  tracks,  full  of  boulders  and  ruts ;  there  are 
many  streams  to  cross,  and  the  bridges  usually  consist  of  faggots 
laid  across,  and  the  jolting  over  these  without  springs  is  indescrib- 
able, and  after  the  heavy  rain  the  roads  would  be  nearly  a  foot  deep 
in  mud,  and  we  should  get  splashed  up  to  our  necks.  It  was  a  weird 
night :  inside — the  flickerings  of  the  smelly  lamp,  the  alternate  argu- 
ings  and  snorings  of  the  farmers,  the  pest  of  all  creeping  things 
which  soon  found  their  way  from  the  walls  on  to  the  nearest  human 
body;  outside — the  rain  pouring  down,  the  neighing  of  horses,  and 
'  the  lowing  of  cattle.  At  3  A.M.  the  rain  somewhat  abated  and  we 
managed  to  persuade  a  driver  to  take  us  as  far  as  a  village  ten  miles 
on  the  road.  With  some  difficulty  he  found  his  own  horses,  and 
we  left  the  stifling  atmosphere  of  the  hut  for  the  damp  dark  air 
outside,  with  its  slight  taint  of  iodine.    We  splashed  through  the 
