My arrangement to travel with the geologic officer and his heavy baggage fell through an hour before our starting time.  A now plan was organized and included my taking Captain Paul in my sleigh to Krasnoyarsk.  Two ladies of our acquaintance were going thither, and I gladly waited a few hours for the pleasure of their company.  When my preparations were completed, I drove to the house of Madame Rodstvenny whence we were to set out.  The madame and her daughter were to travel in a large kibitka, and had bestowed two servants with much baggage and provisions in a vashok.  With our three vehicles we made a dignified procession.

We dined at three o’clock, and were ready to start an hour later.  Just before leaving the house all were seated around the principal room, and for a minute there was perfect silence.  On rising all who professed the religion of the Greek Church bowed to the holy picture and made the sign of the cross.  This custom prevails throughout Russia, and is never omitted when a journey is to be commenced.

There was a gay party to conduct us to the first station, conveniently situated only eight miles away.  At the ferry we found the largest assemblage I saw in Irkutsk, not excepting the crowd at the fire.  The ferry boat was on the other side of the river, and as I glanced across I saw something that caused me to look more intently.  It was a little past sunset, and the gathering night showed somewhat indistinctly the American and Russian flags floating side by side on the boat.  My national colors were in the majority.

The scene was rendered more picturesque by a profusion of Chinese lanterns lighting every part of the boat.  The golovah stood at my side to enjoy my astonishment.  It was to his kindness and attention that this farewell courtesy was due.  He had the honor of unfurling the first American flag that ever floated over the Angara—­and his little surprise raised a goodly sized lump in the throat of his guest.

[Illustration:  FAREWELL TO IRKUTSK.]

Our party was so large that the boat made two journeys to ferry us over the water.  I remained till the last, and on the bank of the river bade adieu to Irkutsk and its hospitable citizens.  I may not visit them again, but I can never forget the open hearted kindness I enjoyed.  The Siberians have a climate of great severity, but its frosts and snows have not been able to chill the spirit of genuine courtesy, as every traveler in that region can testify.  Hospitality is a custom of the country, and all the more pleasing because heartily and cheerfully bestowed.

The shades of night were falling fast as I climbed the river bank, and began my sleigh ride toward the west.  The arched gateway at Irkutsk close by the ferry landing, is called the Moscow entrance, and is said to face directly toward the ancient capital.  As I reached the road, I shouted “poshol” to the yemshick, and we dashed off in fine style.  At the church or monastery six versts away, I overtook our party.  The ladies were in the chapel offering their prayers for a prosperous journey.  When they emerged we were ready to go forward over a road not remarkable for its smoothness.