A Tour in Mongolia by Beatrix Manico Gull

"Whom Heaven has endowed as a fool at his birth it is a waste of instruction to teach"

-- _Chinese proverb_

Our real difficulties had, however, barely begun, and it was upon arrival at the Hotel Siberie at Verkne-Oudinsk that we felt completely at sea in the absence of one word of a common language. Reaching our destination late at night we had the greatest trouble in making them understand that we were hungry and wished to have supper before seeking our rooms. Eggs, we thought, would be the simplest and most easily obtainable fare. I therefore drew an egg. What they did _not_ think it was meant for can hardly be described; that it was an egg never occurred to them. Certainly an egg drawn in a hurry might be many things. Therefore I added an egg-cup to my sketch; and at this they stared in blank astonishment. I think they had never seen such a thing. I then tried to draw a chicken; at which they laughed, but had no conception as to my intention. With all the resourcefulness of the superior sex, Mr. Gull had a brilliant notion. Out of all patience -- he is a peppery little man -- he pointed to my picture, and, violently flapping his arms, he squawked "Cock-a-doodle-doo" at the top of his voice. Delight on the part of the staff. The demonstration had penetrated their thick skulls, and we had eggs for supper that night.

Next day our intention was to find out all about the steamboat which was to carry us up the Selenga River to Kiachta, but how to encompass this was almost an insurmountable problem. The clerks of the telegraph office had been our solitary hope, but on acquaintance we found that this means was worse than useless. They knew not one word of French, German, or, of course, English. We wandered, somewhat disconsolate, along the dusty streets, wondering what we should be able to do, when, when coming away from a private house, we encountered the amiable countenance of a Chinaman. We seized upon him, and our troubles were, for the time being at least, at an end. What he did not know himself, he put us in the way of finding out, and retracing his steps into the house he invited the master thereof to come forth and to speak with us. This gentleman turned out to be a German-speaking Russian engaged in one of the more important businesses of the place, and of his kindness we have the most grateful recollection. He helped us to order dinner, he walked with us, and drove with us. He took us to the steamship company's office, purchased our tickets, and finally put us and our luggage on board the "Rabatka," waving us farewells from the wharf like the good friend that he was.

Verkne-Oudinsk is not a place of many attractions. Once a penal settlement, now a military stronghold, its main feature is the huge white prison standing on the banks of the Selenga River a short distance outside the town; it seems out of all proportion to the population of some 40,000 inhabitants. This prison is capable of containing 600 men and women, and in some of the rooms there are as many as seventy persons herded together. Criminals of the worst order, as well as those prisoners who have escaped and been recaptured, are isolated, confined in dungeons, and wear fetters on their ankles. Of Verkne-Oudinsk's 40,000 inhabitants some 10,000 are said to be Chinese, while of the remainder an appreciable proportion is no doubt composed of Russian political exiles and ticket-of-leave men with their families, or their descendants.

In relation to the size and position of the place the shops of Verkne-Oudinsk are fairly good. There are also a couple of factories, while a brisk trade is carried on at certain hours of the day in the big market square. Considerable business is transacted in Verkne-Oudinsk in connection with skins, fur, wool, and timber. The first-named are, however, exported in their raw condition and therefore not a great many people are employed in this trade. As in most Russian towns, the church forms the dominant feature, and that in Verkne-Oudinsk, with its copper-green roof and white walls, is decidedly attractive to the eye, standing as it does, on the banks of a flowing river.

The houses, mainly of wood, and often composed of rough logs with the bark remaining, are for the most part of one story and border the roads on which the dust is habitually ankle deep. The only possibility of comfort under such conditions is to wear the long soft top boots of the country. Yet it is only the men of the place who do so, and the women for the most part go about in trodden-down slippers and with shawls over their untidy heads.

The weather was by this time growing hot, and the prospect of two days' travelling on a river steamboat sounded exceedingly pleasant after the shadeless, dust-laden streets of Verkne-Oudinsk. But we had reckoned without the mosquitoes. The "Rabatka" can hardly be called a luxurious boat, and the vibration and noise from the paddle-wheels were at first not a little trying. The cabins, arranged with three hard, velvet-covered seats in place of berths, were very small, while the necessity that arose for the thick wire-gauze screens over the windows as soon as the sun went down, rendered them almost unendurably hot. There was a roomy upper deck upon which we had fondly contemplated spending all our time, but alas! the funnel emitted, not smoke, but a continuous rain of red-hot charcoal, and in view of the danger from fire there was, of course, no awning.