x was at the post office.
What was her disappointment to find the articles had been packed in a
light case which was completely smashed. She never made use of any
part of its contents.

In crossing Siberian rivers the mail is sometimes wet, and it is a
good precaution to make packages waterproof. A package of letters for
New York from Nicolayevsk I enveloped in canvas, by advice of Russian
friends, and it went through unharmed.

[Illustration: SCENES ON THE AMOOR.]

The post wagons are changed at every station, and the mail while
being transferred is not handled with care. Frail articles must be
boxed so that no tossing will injure them. My lady friend told me of a
bride who ordered her trousseau from St. Petersburg and prepared for a
magnificent wedding. The precious property arrived forty-eight hours
before the time fixed for the ceremony. Moving accidents by flood and
field had occurred. The bridal paraphernalia was soaked, crushed, and
reduced to a mass that no one could resolve into its original
elements. The wedding was postponed and a new supply of goods ordered.

The mail is always in charge of a postillion, who is generally a
Cossack, and his duty is much like that of a mail agent in other
countries. He delivers and receives the sacks of matter at the post
offices, and guards them on the road. During our voyage on the Ingodah
there was no supervision over the mail bags after they were deposited
in our cabin. I passed many hours in their companionship, and if
Borasdine and I had chosen to rifle them we could have done so at our
leisure. Possibly an escape from the penalties of the law would have
been less easy.

Our cook was an elderly personage, with thin hair, a yellow beard, and
a much neglected toilet. On the first morning I saw him at his
ablutions, and was not altogether pleased with his manner. He took a
half-tumbler of water in his mouth and then squirted the fluid over
his hands, rubbing them meanwhile with invisible soap. He was quite
skillful, but I could never relish his dinners if I had seen him any
time within six hours. His general appearance was that of having slept
in a gutter without being shaken afterwards.

The day of our departure from Nicolayevsk was like the best of our
Indian summer. There was but little wind, the faintest breath coming
now and then from the hills on the southern bank. The air was of a
genial warmth, the sky free from clouds and only faintly dimmed with
the haze a