File:From Pekin to Calais by land (1889) (14776393511).jpg

Identifier: frompekintocalai00dewi (find matches)
Title: From Pekin to Calais by land
Year: 1889 (1880s)
Authors: De Windt, Harry, 1856-1933
Subjects:
Publisher: London Chapman and Hall
Contributing Library: Robarts - University of Toronto
Digitizing Sponsor: University of Toronto

View Book Page: Book Viewer
About This Book: Catalog Entry
View All Images: All Images From Book
Click here to view book online to see this illustration in context in a browseable online version of this book.

Text Appearing Before Image:
ninhabitable. Itsv^armed with rats, the post-master told us, andconvicts, in winter, were sometimes severely bitten;while they were forced to sleep in the daytime, restat night being rendered impossible by the swarmsof vermin. Let me in justice add that this wasthe only really bad ostrog I heard of or saw duringthe whole journey, and the authorities were on thepoint of pulling it down and building a new one.We hear a deal in England of wretched hovels,where convicts are housed together like sheep ina pen, human pigstyes reeking with filth of everydescription, where not a day passes but a prisoner iscarried off by typhus or some other malignant fever.As a matter of fact I have seldom seen neater build-ings. But for the black and white sentry boxes,the barred windows, and imperial eagle over thegate, one would never take them for prisons at all,and they were often, with their bright yellow walls,red roof, and neatly kept gardens, the onlycheerful-looking building in the squalid villages
Text Appearing After Image:
lEKOUTSK TO TOMSK. 493 through which we passed. The ostrog at Koutoulikwas empty, but a gang was expected that afternoon,a Cossack told us. Preparations for their arrivalwere already being made in the shape of cakes,cream, eggs, apples, sw^eetmeats, and cigarettesspread out on snowy linen cloths for the delectationof lucky convicts who had made a few kopeks onthe road. We strolled back to the post-house after ourinspection, and called in sheer desperation for theSamovar. There was literally nothing else to do.Seven lono; hours must be Q:ot throug-h before wecould hope to get horses and proceed on ourjourney. It is this eternal delay, this irksomewaiting that makes Siberian travel so monotonousand dispiriting. The fatigue and privation weretrifling compared to the long weary days ofboredom and inaction. We got into a habit at lastof calling mechanically for tea at every station.Fifteen or twenty glasses were, after the first week,our daily allowance, and I verily believe I dranktea eno

Note About Images