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Fair as was the scene that first bright June day on the Amour, we could not altogether forget that we were in Siberia, for, as the lines of the _Baron Korff_ were cast off, another steamer of like pattern anchored just beyond moved out of our way, and we saw that she was towing a convict barge, and the faces of the poor fellows bound for dismal exile could be seen, pressing close up to the bars of their floating cage. These prisoners were bound for Saghalien Island, a thousand miles away, at the mouth of the Amour.
No sooner had the _Baron Korff_ gotten clear of the pier than we found that she, too, towed a convict barge, and henceforth, for days and days, for hundreds of miles, one of these grewsome ships followed in our wake, tugged by the same steam-power that carried us along. But what a difference! We were journeying in comparative luxury, with pleasant company, and all the freedom that a roomy steamer can furnish, to friends in Europe, and then to our home in the home land.