At Raddevski several kinds of berries were offered us, but only the blackberry and whortleberry were familiar to my eyes.  One berry, of which I vainly tried to catch the Russian name, was of oblong shape, three-fourths an inch in length, and had the taste of a sweet grape.  It was said to grow on a climbing vine.  Cedar nuts were offered in large quantities, but I did not purchase.

Here, as elsewhere on the lower Amoor, men and women labor together in the fields and engage equally in marketing at the boats.  I was much amused in watching the commercial transactions between the peasants and our steward.  I could not understand what was said, but the conversation in loud tones and with many words had much the appearance of an altercation.  Several times I looked around expecting to see blows, but the excitement was confined to the vocal organs alone.

The passage of the Amoor through the Buryea mountains is nearly a hundred miles in length.  Toward the upper end the mountains are more precipitous and a few peaks rise high above the others, like The Sentinels in Yosemite valley.  The last cliff before one reaches the level country is known as Cape Sverbef, a bold promontory that projects into the river and is nearly a thousand feet high.  Not far from this cliff is a flat-topped mountain remarkable for several crevices on its northern side, from which currents of cold air steadily issue.  Ice forms around these fissures in midsummer, and a thermometer suspended in one of them fell in an hour to 30 deg.  Fahrenheit.

An hour after passing the mountains I saw a dozen conical huts on the Chinese shore and a few dusky natives lounging in front of them.  They reminded me of the lodges of our noble red men as I saw them west of the Missouri several years before.  Instead of being Cheyennes or Sioux they proved to be Birars, a tribe of wandering Tunguse who inhabit this region.  Their dwellings wore of light poles covered with birch bark.  One of the native gentlemen was near the bank of the river in the attitude of an orator, but not properly dressed for a public occasion.  His only garments were a hat and a string of beads, and he was accompanied by a couple of young ladies in the same picturesque costume, minus the hat and beads.

These Tungusians lead a nomadic life.  Above the mouth of the Zeya there are two other tribes of similar character, the Managres and Orochons.  The principal difference between them is that the former keep the horse and the latter the reindeer.  The Birars have no beasts of burden except a very few horses.

None of these people live in permanent houses, but move about wherever attracted by fishing or the chase.  During spring and summer they generally live on the banks of the river, where they catch and cure fish.  Their scaffoldings and storehouses were like those of the natives already described, and during their migrations are left without guards and universally respected.  Their fish are dried for winter use, and they sell the roe of the sturgeon to the Russians for making caviar.