ganization of our army, the relations of our
people after the war, our mode of life, manners, and customs, were
subjects of repeated inquiry.

On the morning of the 26th October, Captain Molostoff, who was to be
my companion, announced his readiness to depart. I made my farewell
calls, and we packed our baggage into my tarantass, with the exception
of the terrible trunk that adhered to me like a shadow. As we had no
Cossack and traveled without a servant, there was room for the
unwieldy article on the seat beside the driver. I earnestly advise
every tourist in Siberia not to travel with a trunk. The Siberian
ladies manage to transport all the articles for an elaborate toilet
without employing a single 'dog house' or 'Saratoga.' If they can do
without trunks, of what should not man be capable?

Our leave-taking consumed much time and champagne, and it was nearly
sunset before we left Chetah. It is the general custom in Siberia to
commence journeys in the afternoon or evening, the latter extending
anywhere up to daybreak. As one expects to travel night and day until
reaching his destination, his hour of starting is of no consequence.
Just before leaving he is occupied in making farewell calls, and is
generally 'seen off' by his friends. In the evening he has no warm bed
to leave, no hasty toilet to make, and no disturbed household around
him. With a vehicle properly arranged he can settle among his furs and
pillows and is pretty likely to fall asleep before riding many miles.
I was never reconciled to commencing a journey early in the morning,
with broken sleep, clothing half arranged, and a 'picked-up' breakfast
without time to swallow it leisurely.

On leaving Chetah we crossed a frozen stream tributary to the Ingodah,
and proceeded rapidly over an excellent road. We met several carts,
one-horse affairs on two wheels, laden with hay for the Chetah market.
One man generally controlled three or four carts, the horses
proceeding in single file. The country was more open than on the other
side of Chetah, and the road had suffered little in the rains and
succeeding cold. For some distance we rode near two lines of
telegraph; one was a temporary affair erected during the insurrection
of 1866, while the other was the permanent line designed to connect
America with Europe by way of Bering's Straits. The poles used for
this telegraph are large and firmly set, and give the line an
appearance of durability.

The Captain was f