d breakfast on my own
account. Summoning the _chelavek_ I began, "_Dai samovar, chi, saher e
kleb_," (give the samovar, tea, bread, and sugar.) This accomplished,
I procured beefsteaks and potatoes without difficulty. I spoke the
language of the country in a fragmentary way, but am certain my
Russian was not half as bad as the beefsteak.

CHAPTER XXIV.

Chetah stands on the left bank of the Ingodah, nearly three hundred
miles above Stratensk, and is the capital of the Trans-Baikal
province. For many years it was a small town with a few hundred
inhabitants, but the opening of the Amoor in 1854 changed its
character. Below this point the Ingodah is navigable for boats and
rafts, and during the early years of the Amoor occupation much
material was floated down from Chetah. In 1866 its population,
including the garrison, was about five thousand. Many houses were
large and well fitted, and all were of wood. The officers lived
comfortably, but complained of high rents.

The governor's mansion is the largest and best, and near it is the
club-house where weekly soirees are held. I attended one of these and
found a pleasant party. There was music and dancing, tea-drinking and
card-playing, gossip and silence at varied and irregular intervals.
Some of the officers read selections from Russian authors, and others
recited pieces of prose and poetry. There were dialogues, evidently
humorous to judge by the mirth they produced, and there was a paper
containing original contributions. The association appeared
prosperous, and I was told that its literary features were largely due
to the efforts of the governor.

There is a _gastinni-dvor_ or row of shops and a market-place
surrounded with huckster's stalls, much like those near Fulton Ferry.
Desiring to replace a broken watch-key I found a repair shop and
endeavored to make my inquiries in Russian. "_Monsieur parle le
Francais, je crois_," was the response to my attempt, and greatly
facilitated the transaction of business. Before I left New York an
acquaintance showed me a photograph of a Siberian, who proved to be
the watchmaker thus encountered.

Walking about the streets I saw many prisoners at work under guard,
most of them wearing fetters. Though I became accustomed during my
Siberian travels to the sight of chains on men, I could never hear
their clanking without a shudder. The chains worn by a prisoner were
attached at one end to bands enclosing his ankles and at