The country par excellence of posting is the Asiatic portion of Russia, commonly called Siberia. European Russia was formerly traversed by post routes, but the construction of railways has caused most of them to be discontinued. In Siberia there are as yet no railways, the country is large and the roads are excellent. All these conditions are favorable to the posting system, and by means of it you may travel from the Ural mountains to the Sea of Okhotsk without a break. The writer once journeyed by post from the head of navigation on the Amoor River, in Siberia, to Nijne Novgorod, in European Russia, a distance of nearly five thousand miles. Fourteen hundred miles of this was accomplished in a wheeled carriage (called a tarantass) and 3,600 in a sleigh. A brief account of this journey will describe the Russian posting system.

The first requisite for the road is a Padarojnia, or road pass, which is issued by the government authorities, and without it no one can pass a single station of the route or obtain horses. The document states the name, residence, and destination of the bearer, the number of horses to which he is entitled, and the grade of his pass. There are three grades of road passes, the first for government couriers and high officials, the second for lesser lights in the official firmament, or for distinguished civilians, and the third for the common civilian. Horses are kept waiting for the first, and are generally forthcoming for the second, but the holder of a third class Padarojnia will often wait for hours before he can be supplied, unless he is willing to pay an extra fee to the station master for expeditious service.

Baggage must be in flat and broad valises of soft leather, and all hard boxes and square parcels should be thrown away at the start. These broad valises, or chemidans, are spread on the bottom of the vehicle; straw or hay is laid over them and the whole is covered with a heavy coarse quilt. You sit, recline, or lie at full length on this soft flooring; no seats are in the vehicle, and one very soon learns that he is far better off without them. A couple of thick and strong pillows are necessary to hold you in your corner and save you from the frequent thumps you would otherwise receive.

You can travel in the vehicle (telega) belonging to the government stations, but in this event you must change at every station, a performance that speedily becomes a nuisance, especially in a cold night. It is best to hire a tarantass to be taken through, or, if you cannot hire one, you had better purchase it outright and sell for what you can get at the end of the journey. The tarantass is mounted on a pair of stout and flexible poles that serve as springs, and sometimes they are so long that the two axles are at least twelve feet apart. It has a hood like an old-fashioned chaise, and is equipped with a boot and an apron, so that it can be quite shut in at night or in a storm.

To protect him from the cold the writer had a suit of thick clothing, covered with a sheepskin coat that buttoned tight around the neck and descended to the ankles. Over this he had a deerskin coat with the hair outside; it reached to his heels, trailing like a lady's dress when he walked, and was large enough inside for a man and a boy. The collar was a foot wide, and the sleeves were six inches longer than the wearer's arms; they were very inconvenient when he wanted to pick up anything, and when the collar was turned up and brought around in front it suggested the idea of a man without a head. For wraps he had a robe made of nine sheepskins, sewed together and backed with heavy felting; the robe was about three yards square and as impervious to cold as the side of an ordinary house. Then he had a fur cap fitting close to the head, fur gloves for his hands, and a mitten of sable skin for his nose. He discarded the ordinary boot of civilization and wore, over his ordinary socks, a pair of socks of squirrel skin with the fur inside. Over these he had sheepskin stockings reaching to the knees, with the wool inside, and over these he had deerskin boots that rose to the bifurcation of his legs, and were held in place by thongs. Thus equipped one may bid defiance to the low temperature of a winter journey across Siberia.

At Irkutsk, the capital of Eastern Siberia, he remained a month, till the snows fell and the winter roads were good. Then he bought a sleigh (kibitka), constructed after the general pattern of the tarantass, save that it was on runners instead of wheels. With a slight expenditure for repairs he carried this sleigh through to Nijne Novgorod (3,600 miles), or rather was carried by the sleigh. A Siberian journey may begin at any hour of the day the traveler chooses, and is continued day and night till it closes. The usual custom is to order the post horses to be brought around about 10 P.M.; the day and evening have been spent in feasting and farewells, and towards midnight the departing traveler nestles down among his garments and thick wraps, and is ready to go to sleep while the team dashes over the road at a rattling pace. Sometimes he is escorted to the first station by a party of friends, and in this case they set off all together about sunset and make an evening of it.

The horses are changed at distances varying from ten to twenty-five miles; they are paid for at each change, and the traveler must be provided with a bag of copper coin, so that he will never be at a loss to make out the exact amount that may be due. The driver expects a small gratuity, and he generally earns it by driving at a lively gait; a placard is hung in every station, showing the distance to the stations on each side, and the price per horse, so that the best intentions of the station master to cheat the wayfarer are frustrated. Everything included, cost of padarojnia, hire of horses, and gratuities to drivers, the expense of posting in Siberia is about four cents a mile; two persons may occupy a kibitka, and some of these vehicles will hold three, and the number of persons makes no difference in the cost except when it is so large as to call for more horses.

The station master is required by law to furnish travelers with hot water and bread, at a fixed price, and he may sell anything else that he chooses. Eggs can generally be had at the stations, but no other article of food can be relied on. The traveler will carry his own tea, coffee, brandy, and edibles generally; in winter the frost preserves them perfectly, and he is under no apprehension that his perishable provisions will perish. Soup is carried in cakes like small bricks; roast beef resembles red granite, and must be carved with an axe. There is always a fire in the travelers' room at the stations, and no difficulty in preparing one's dinner, which is seasoned with that best of all sauces, a keen appetite.

The sleigh glides merrily over the smooth roads and bounds the reverse of joyously where the way is rough. As long as the harness holds together and the team is in motion the driver pays no attention to the passengers, but lets them rattle about as they will. Occasionally there is a spill, but it rarely amounts to anything more than a disagreeable shaking up and a scattering of one's property along the road. To guard against a mishap of this sort it is customary to lash the baggage into its place by passing a strong cord over it a half-dozen times or more.

On and on you go, changing horses at the stations, and alighting two or three times a day for meals. In the cities and large towns you may halt a day or two for relief from the monotony, and for any repairs that your sleigh may need. The road is long; there are 209 changes of horses between Irkutsk and Nijne Novgorod, and some 90 odd between the head of the Amoor and Irkutsk. It gets tiresome after a while, and you gladly hear the whistle of the locomotive which tells you that your long ride is at an end.

The winter is by far the best season of the year for traversing Siberia. In summer the roads are dusty, the delays at the river crossings are frequently long and vexatious, mosquitoes and flies fill the air, provisions will only keep fresh for a day or so, and the tarantass is a heavy vehicle to draw. The frost seals the rivers, shuts up the flies and mosquitoes, lays the dust, extinguishes the malaria of the marshes, and preserves your animal food for an indefinite period. If you intend taking the longest and most exhilarating post ride in the world, by all means make up your mind to try it in winter.

The whole of Asiatic Russia enjoys the benefits of the posting system, and one may go by the government roads to the shores of the Arctic ocean in the north, or to the country of the Kirghes and Turcomans on the south. Whenever a new region in Central Asia is conquered and brought under the Russian rule, a post route is opened and stations are established, so as to afford certain and quick communication. The post route is to Russia what the railway is to the United States in developing new territory, and carrying to it the blessings, as well as the curses, of civilization.

  CHAPTER XVII.

TRAVELING WITH CAMELS AND ELEPHANTS.

Next to the horse the camel is the beast of burden available for travelers, and in some parts of the world he is a most important animal. He has long been known as "The Ship of the Desert," and without his aid the sandy wastes of Asia and Africa would be well-nigh impassable.

The regions where the camel is in use are practically comprised in Persia, Tartary, Arabia, Northern Africa, and portions of China and India. There are several varieties of camels that differ from each other, like the various kinds of horses; the finest and best of the race is the one called the dromedary, which bears the same relation to the ordinary camel as the carefully-bred trotter does to the common horse. The pace of the common camel is about three miles an hour, and his day's journey is from twenty to thirty miles. At this rate he can carry from five hundred to nine hundred pounds of burden, and for a short journey a strong camel can be loaded with one thousand pounds. The swift camel or saddle dromedary has been known to make ten miles an hour, though his ordinary pace will not exceed seven or eight. He will travel fifty miles a day for days together, and, on emergencies, he will accomplish one hundred miles or more without resting. Mohammed Ali Pasha, who ruled over Egypt in the early part of this century, once rode on a dromedary from Suez to Cairo, eighty-two miles, in less than ten hours. He made only a single halt of about half an hour; the driver of the beast ran at his side for the entire distance, and died the next day from the exertion.

The stomach of the camel is so arranged that it can hold water enough for a week's supply; the animal is thus enabled to traverse the desert where the wells are often several days' journey from each other. His foot is a spongy mass that flattens to a great breadth when placed on the ground, and enables him to walk on the yielding sand, and his hump is a store of fat that sustains him in the privations of the desert. Attempts have been made to employ the camel on the arid wastes of the south-western parts of the United States, but none of them have been more than experimentally successful.

The motion of a camel is far from agreeable to the novice; even the slow walk is unpleasant and wearying, and when it comes to the trotting camel, or swift dromedary, the exercise is like being tossed violently in a wooden blanket, and allowed to fall heavily every other second. The rider's head and shoulders are thrown forward and then back with a jerk, and as the jerks average about thirty-eight to the minute each way, they become monotonous after a while. The novice who reads this book is advised not to try a trotting camel till he has become thoroughly accustomed to the dignified walker; the latter will give him all the amusement he wants for a week or so, and perhaps longer; and if he accomplishes twenty-five miles a day on his humpbacked steed he should be satisfied. The first day he will feel somewhat shaken up, but unable to locate his pains; the next day he feels as though his backbone had been removed, and the third day he finds it has returned, but is converted into glass. After that his pains will subside, and a week will find him acclimated.

The riding saddle for a camel is a sort of dish with a pommel, and the practiced rider crosses his legs around this pommel, and thus holds himself in place. Stirrups are sometimes added, but they do not properly belong to the equipment of a camel. A very good seat may be arranged by taking the common pack-saddle, slinging the saddle-bags across, and then piling on rugs and wraps enough to form a soft and wide seat. The whole should be firmly lashed to prevent slipping; stirrups may be added either at the pommel or at the side, and when thus arranged the rider may mount to his place. He may ride in any way he likes, either astride or sidewise, and he soon finds that he can change his position without difficulty or danger.

A gentleman who has had much experience in camel riding gives the following directions:—

"Place a light box or package on either side of the pack-saddle, sufficiently closely corded to form one wide horizontal surface. On this lay a carpet, mattress, blanket, and wraps, thus forming a delicious seat or couch, and giving the option of lying down or sitting, either sidesaddle or cross-legged. Sheets, pillow, rug, etc., may be rolled up and strapped to the back of the saddle, and form an excellent support to the back or elbow. The object of the light box or package is to a certain extent answered by a pair of well-stuffed saddle-bags."

The traveler on a camel in the hot regions of Africa should have a good supply of white clothing and a pith hat, or sola topee, to protect his head from the broiling sun. But he should always have a suit of tolerably thick clothing, for the night-air is cold, even in the tropics, and a heavy overcoat will often prove useful. Water is carried in barrels, or goat-skins; of late years boxes of galvanized iron have been used very successfully, the first man to try them being Dr. Rohlfs, the celebrated explorer of Northern Africa. In addition to this, every man carries a small water-skin, called a zemzemeeyah, at his saddle-bow, for use during the day, and as a reserve in case he strays from camp.

The outfit for a journey by camel will depend much on the locality to be visited, and the time consumed, and consequently no general rules for it can be laid down. Whether it be the African deserts of Lybia or Sahara, or the desert of Arabia, the traveler must carry the most of his provisions with him, and be prepared to rough it a good deal. With an enormous train of camels it is possible to transport many of the luxuries of life, including spacious tents, carpets, bedsteads, and other furniture, but if you cannot be comfortable without all these things you had better stay at home. The usual allowance for travelers in the Arabian desert is a tent for every four or five persons, and an extra tent for a dining and sitting-room. The expense varies from five to eight dollars a day for each person, and depends a good deal on the size of the party and the style of traveling. At all the starting-points it is easy to find a dragoman who will undertake the whole business, but his recommendations should be critically examined, and the contract drawn with judicious care. The dragoman is too often a slippery party, who seeks to enrich himself at the expense of his employer. A good one is a treasure, but a bad one is a source of never-ending trouble.

In Northern China the camel is largely used, especially on the desert of Gobi. Travelers between Pekin and Kiachta, on the frontier of Siberia, generally ride in camel carts, or at all events have them in reserve, while they promenade on their saddle ponies. Formerly all the tea that entered Russia was imported overland, and in the tea season long files of camels, laden with the delicious herb, could be seen entering Kiachta at any hour of the day. Since the opening of the Russian ports to importations by sea the camel traffic has largely diminished, but there are still a goodly number of these patient animals traversing the desert of Gobi, and the regions to the west of it. The camel is an important reliance of Russia in her military conquests in Central Asia, and the failure of an expedition is often chargeable to him.

For riding purposes the elephant is preferable to the camel, as the motion is far less disagreeable, and the broad back of the beast affords a comfortable seat. The driver sits on the neck of his steed and manages him with an iron goad that has a hook at the end, as well as a straight point. The traveler has nothing to do with directing the elephant beyond giving his instructions to the driver before starting; if the ground is wooded he must keep a sharp watch for the limbs of the trees, or run the risk of being brushed from his place. The writer's first experience with elephant riding was at Benares, in India; a magnificent elephant, belonging to a native prince, was furnished to him for an excursion, and he returned from the adventure without any of the disagreeable aches that accompanied his novitiate with the camel. The howdah, or saddle, was like a small carriage, capable of seating four persons; it was held in place by several thongs and cords, and was reached by means of a ladder placed against the animal's side. A more primitive equipment is a pad-saddle, which is described by its name; it is simply a broad pad, like a well-stuffed mattress, and is held in position the same as the howdah. An elephant can easily carry all the passengers that can cling to him, as his ordinary load is anything less than two thousand pounds.

When troops are on the march they have a form of saddle that will carry eight men, and some of the largest will hold ten. It consists of two benches or settees placed back to back and resting on a small platform that gives support to the feet. In riding in this way the traveler looks to one side, the same as in an Irish jaunting car, and if he wants to see anything on the opposite side he must give his neck a twist, more or less inconvenient.

There are two species of elephant, the African and the Asiatic; the former is much the more fierce and not often domesticated, though it is pretty clearly demonstrated that the first elephants ever tamed and used by man were from Africa. The Asiatic elephant is employed in Siam, Ceylon, Burmah, and India as a beast of burden, and in a few other countries. The traveler in India will often see dozens of these beasts at the railway stations waiting to receive their burdens of bales and boxes, and sometimes he sees them at work on the roads. The great expense of feeding them makes them an expensive article of luxury, and it is not likely they will ever come into general use. A good elephant will carry a ton of cargo and march fifty miles a day over ordinary roads; he gets along very well on level ground, but sometimes topples and falls backward when trying to climb a steep hill with a burden on his back.

One caution the elephant rider should bear in mind. It is a peculiar trait of this animal to take fright from slight and often absurd causes, and sometimes he gets beyond the control of his driver. In such a case do not seek safety by slipping or jumping from his back; you may escape injury from the fall but will be in danger of being trampled to death by the elephant or pierced by his tusks. Even while he is going quietly along the road you should be careful not to fall by accident to the ground, or attempt to jump there, as he is very apt to turn and attack you.

The most docile elephants are nearly as dangerous in this respect as the ferocious ones; while the writer was in India an engineer officer was one day riding a favorite elephant that had been in his possession for years and was much attached to him. By some accident he slipped from the saddle and fell to the ground; the elephant immediately turned, and in spite of the efforts of the driver to stop him, pierced his master with his tusks, killing him almost instantly.

Another peculiarity of the elephant is to become suddenly insane from no apparent cause. The animal may be walking quietly along the road, or standing in his stable, when, without a moment's warning, he raises his trunk in the air, bellows loudly, and rushes upon the nearest man or beast with an effort to annihilate him. The paroxysm may be over in a few minutes or it may last for hours; while it continues, the beast is full of malice, and it is dangerous in the extreme to approach him.

  CHAPTER XVIII.

TRAVELING WITH REINDEER AND DOGS.

Comparatively few of the readers of this volume are likely to have any practical use for information concerning the modes of traveling with reindeer and dogs, and therefore the subject will be treated very briefly. The use of these animals for riding or driving purposes is confined to the Arctic Circle, and regions adjacent to it, rarely going below the fiftieth parallel of north latitude.

In Lapland, and in some portions of Northern Siberia, the reindeer is employed to the exclusion of the dog, while in Greenland and that part of North America bordering the Arctic Ocean the dog is the only beast of burden. The American and Greenland dogs are of the variety known as Esquimaux, and closely allied to the familiar and treacherous Spitz. In Kamchatka and Northeastern Siberia both dogs and reindeer are employed for drawing sledges, and the reindeer for a saddle animal. The Kamchadale dog is quite like the Esquimaux in appearance, character, qualities, and uses, and the description of one will answer in general terms for both.

The sledge used for the reindeer in Lapland is a sort of box, not unlike a coffin in general appearance, and it has the faculty of overturning very easily. The animal is harnessed with a broad collar of deerskin, and a stout thong extends between his legs to the front of the sledge. A single rein is fastened to one of his horns, and by means of this he is guided. Sometimes there are two thongs or traces, one on each side of the deer, and when two deer are employed together they are harnessed side by side. In that case a rein is fastened to the horn of each.

In Kamchatka and Siberia the sledge is higher and broader than that of Lapland; the latter has frequently but a single runner, like a broad plank turned up at the ends, while the former has a pair of runners, each about six inches wide. Generally the occupant of the sledge is his own driver, especially if he has but a single deer, but with a fine turnout of a pair of trotters the driver sits on the forward part of the vehicle while the passenger is wrapped in his furs and takes things comfortably. The ordinary deer is not a fast animal and his speed does not exceed five or six miles an hour, but the fancy team is quite another thing. It has been known to make fifteen or sixteen miles an hour and to travel a hundred and forty miles without any rest beyond a few brief halts. A ride behind a fast reindeer has the disadvantage that the driver and passenger are pelted with balls of snow, thrown by the animals hoofs, unless the weather is so cold that the snow will not unite.

In Northeastern Siberia the reindeer is much oftener used under the saddle than with a sledge. The saddle is placed directly over the animal's withers, as the back is not strong, and will give way under the weight of an ordinary man; it is nothing but a flat pad without stirrups, and the rider, who is passing his novitiate, has no easy task. The first time he gets on he generally tumbles off on the other side at once, and even after he has succeeded in balancing himself the first step of the deer is pretty sure to send him to the ground. It is customary to carry a long stick with which to preserve the balance, and some riders provide themselves with two sticks, one on each side. The stick is absolutely necessary in mounting, as the deer is liable to be thrown down if mounted as one would mount a horse.

A hundred pounds is considered a sufficient load for an ordinary deer, and it is only the very best of the animals that can sustain the weight of a good sized man. Nature has made the inhabitants of the country of small stature and slender figures, probably in an effort to adapt them to the carrying capacities of their beasts of burden. A native rides one deer and leads a pack train of any number up to a dozen, the halter of one being fastened to the tail of his predecessor. The one that he rides is guided by a halter around the neck, and a line which is fastened to the nose in case the animal is without horns.

In Kamchatka and the Arctic Regions generally, where dogs are employed for drawing sledges, they are broken to their work while quite young. Their training begins when they are six months old, but they are not put to actual labor till three years old, unless in times of great distress and a scarcity of dogs. One mode of training is to fasten them to posts or trees, with thongs of green skin, and then place their food just beyond their reach. By reaching for it they stretch the green thong; in this way they learn to pull steadily for some minutes at a time, and the muscles of their necks are strengthened. Occasionally they are harnessed to carts or sledges and made to run for short distances, and are thus gradually trained to the work they are to perform.

Dogs are driven without reins and generally without a whip. The driver has a stick, called an ostoll, with one end pointed with iron; this he uses for stopping his team when he wishes to bring it to a halt, and checks its speed when descending hills. Occasionally he punishes a refractory dog with it, but not often as the hard stick is apt to inflict permanent injury on the slender bones of the animal. The most important dog in the team is the leader, whose position is indicated by his name. He is selected for his superior intelligence and docility, and his training requires much care and attention. An ordinary team dog is worth from eight to twelve dollars, while fifty or even a hundred dollars may be refused for a good leader. The leader obeys the voice of his driver and turns to the right or left, according to directions. When the team is weary and moves at a slow pace, the leader has been known to put fresh life into their movements by suddenly pretending to have fallen on the track of an animal, by putting his nose to the ground or snow and barking violently. Away they go in pursuit, and only the leading dog and the driver are aware of the ruse that has been played.

A team may consist of any number of dogs up to twenty, but the large teams are only used for carrying freight, and rarely travel faster than a walk. A team of running dogs for traveling purposes usually consists of five or seven; the number is almost always odd, as it consists of one or more pairs of dogs and a leader. The sledge is long and narrow, and the size and shape are varied, according to the way it is to be used. The driver sits sidewise on the sledge and clings to it with one hand, while he manages his ostoll with the other. The traveling sledge is as light as possible, and just large enough to support the driver and a very little cargo. It is made of wood, fastened together with thongs of deerskin, and the runners are usually shod with polished bone.

A good team will travel from forty to sixty miles a day with favorable roads. Sometimes a hundred miles may be made in a single day, but such performances are rare. The news of the declaration of the Crimean war was carried from Bolcheretsk to Petropavlovsk, one hundred and twenty-five miles, in twenty-three hours without change of dogs. A good team can average forty miles a day, and even fifty miles for a week or more, but they must be lightly laden, and have favorable roads.

The comparative merits of dogs and reindeer in the countries where both are used may be set down as follows:—

The reindeer seeks his own food; he lives on moss that grows beneath the snow, which he scrapes away to reach it. Thus he may travel any length of time and be in good condition, provided he has sufficient time each day for feeding.

The food for dogs must be carried on the sledge, unless the traveler is certain of finding it along his route. The maximum supply that can be carried by a team for its sustenance is for one week. Consequently where dog food cannot be procured every five or six days those animals are useless.

A forced journey can be made with dogs, but not with reindeer. Dogs may be driven till utterly exhausted, and they will travel an entire day, or even more, after their food has given out. But when the reindeer is weary and hungry he stops and lies down, and no argument that his driver can use will induce him to move on. He may be pounded with sticks, or prodded with goads for hours, but all to no purpose. He wants his food and will have it at whatever risk. When a reindeer team thus halts there is no alternative but to turn the animals out to feed, and wait till they have eaten all they wish.

  CHAPTER XIX.

TRAVELING WITH MAN-POWER. PALANKEENS, JINRIKISHAS, AND SEDAN-CHAIRS.

To be carried on the shoulders of his fellow-man is not often the lot of the American; the most frequent form of this species of locomotion in the United States is decidedly uncomfortable and degrading, and is known as "riding on a rail." The costume for an expedition of this sort is inexpensive and ungraceful, though fitting closely; it usually consists of a veneering of warm tar applied to the skin of the tourist, and immediately afterwards he is rolled in a bed of feathers. Thus equipped he is mounted on a pole, generally a fence-rail, without saddle or bridle, and borne on the shoulders of those who supplied his wardrobe. There is no mode of traveling known to civilization where the accommodations are so wretched, and the mental and physical discomforts so great, as in riding on a rail after the American system. The only thing in its favor is its cheapness, as it is generally quite gratuitous.

In Europe, before the adoption of wheeled vehicles, those who could afford the luxury, were carried in chairs by two or more porters; the conveyance was said to have originated in Sedan, France, and thus became known as the sedan chair. It was introduced into England about the time of King Charles First, and speedily attained great popularity. It was gradually displaced by the wheeled carriage, and disappeared from the cities of Continental Europe, one after another; it lingers in Constantinople with other relics of past ages, and may be seen occasionally at the European watering-places, where it is used to convey invalids to and from the baths and springs. Before the construction of the railway on Mount Vesuvius chairs were employed to carry visitors up the steep incline, and they can be seen now and then among the Swiss mountains. To see the chaise a porteurs in all its glory it is necessary to visit Asia.

The first vehicle of this sort that meets the traveler's gaze as he journeys eastward from Europe is the palankeen, or palkee, as it is usually called in India. It is a conveyance peculiar to India, and consists of a box about seven feet long by four wide and three high. It is entirely of wood, roof and all, and there is a sliding door in each side, while the interior is equipped with a hard mattress and bolster. There is a pole three or four feet long at each end, which rests on the shoulders of the bearers, and is generally made secure by iron braces. To enter this contrivance you back into it till you can sit on the mattress, and then by a skilful swing you bring head and feet inside at the same moment. Then you lie down at full length and the coolies move off. You are expected to lie still, so as not to disturb the equilibrium, and in the enervating climate of India you are quite willing to be motionless. The bearers have a peculiar swinging step that saves you from any jolts, and the motion is quite luxurious.

Formerly in the cities of India the foreign residents made great use of the palankeen, and every person of respectability was supposed to keep one, together with the appropriate number of bearers. Of late years it has been largely superceded by the horse carriage, of which there are two or three varieties, and the palkee-bearers have been forced to seek other employments. Four bearers are necessary to carry the palkee, and four more run alongside to take their share of the burden when the first are weary. At night a torch-bearer is necessary to light the way, and to do the thing in style, there should be four torch-bearers, two in front and two in the rear. Formerly the palkee was the only means of traveling in the interior of India, but the carriage road, and later the railway, have made the "palkee dawk" (palankeen express) among the things that were.

For traveling on the high roads through the interior each palankeen required sixteen bearers, and if the traveler had more than a very little baggage he was compelled to hire from eight to twelve men to carry it. The torch-bearers and other attendants generally brought his retinue up to thirty-five or forty men, and sometimes even more. There were stations on the road every ten miles where relays were obtained, and there was always more or less delay at these stations, so that the palkee was not a rapid means of travel. The "lightning dawk," as the natives call the locomotive, has beaten it quite out of sight.

A cheaper vehicle for country travel is the dhoolie, a sort of chair with a covering of canvas or muslin; it is lighter than the palkee, and requires only twelve bearers instead of sixteen. An English statesman of considerable renown once spoke in Parliament of the ferocious dhoolies that carried the wounded from the battle-field on a certain occasion; he was under the impression that the dhoolie was a blood-thirsty native rather than an inoffensive chair.

What the palankeen was to India the sedan-chair is to China. As the traveler finds it at Hong Kong or Canton it is a bamboo chair with a ventilating top, like a Venetian blind, and it has curtains at the side that may be rolled up or let down at will. It has a floor for the feet, and rests for the arms, and altogether the Chinese chair is a very comfortable vehicle. Long poles are fastened to the sides, parallel with each other and projecting three or four feet in front and rear, and by these poles the concern is carried. The chair is placed on the ground for you to enter it, and you have none of the difficulty experienced in getting into a palankeen. You simply sit down as in an arm-chair at home; when you are seated, the bearers seize the poles, and, at a signal from their leader, swing the burden to its place on their shoulders. They move at a swinging pace, and usually, but not always, keep step in unison. Every ten minutes or so they change the pole from one shoulder to the other, and about every half hour they halt and put the chair on the ground for a few minutes. You may retain your place during this halt or get out and stretch your limbs, just as you please.

In all the cities of China the chair is in use, and in most, if not all of them, the streets are so narrow that carriages could not possibly move about. For a short ride two bearers are sufficient, and the chairs for hire in the streets of Hong Kong rarely have more than two. But for an excursion into the country, or to the summit of Victoria peak, overlooking Hong Kong harbor, four bearers are necessary. There is a regular tariff for chairs, just as there is for cabs in London or Paris. A short course costs ten cents, and a longer one in proportion, and a chair with four bearers for an entire day, in making the circuit of Canton, may be had for a dollar. Labor is cheap in the far East.

Two-wheeled cabs, drawn by a single horse, take the place of the chair to some extent in Pekin, but there are many streets where the cabs cannot circulate. In Shanghai the wheelbarrow is a rival of the chair; it is cheaper and more uncomfortable, and its use is almost entirely confined to the natives. It has no springs, the pavement is rough, the man between the shafts is generally far from strong, and altogether the wheelbarrow of Northern China is not to be recommended.

The man-power vehicle, par excellence, is the jinrikisha of Japan. It replaces the norimon and cango, peculiar forms of the sedan-chair, and has only been in use since 1870. It is said to have been invented by an American, and the first jinrikishas that were used were imported from San Francisco. Probably not less than a hundred thousand of them are now in use throughout Japan, and they are said to have penetrated to the remotest districts.

The jinrikisha is a carriage like a small chaise of the New England pattern; it is on two wheels, and has shafts like a handcart, and there is a hood over the top that can be opened or closed at pleasure. The coolie that draws it places the shafts on the ground to permit you to enter, and, until he picks them up, you are sitting with your head bent forward. The cross-piece of the shafts held against his breast brings the carriage to a level, and then you are ready for a start. The jinrikisha is intended for one person, but occasionally you see two Japanese or Chinese of medium size occupying a single vehicle.

For a short ride in a Japanese city one man to pull your carriage is sufficient, but for a journey into the country, or of several miles, you need two men, or perhaps three. Where you have but one man you should not expect to go as rapidly as with two or three, and you must dismount in sandy places, or when a hill is to be ascended. The speed and endurance of these men is something wonderful. It is nothing unusual for three of them to pull a jinrikisha fifty miles in twelve hours, with only three halts of a quarter of an hour each, and they have been known to make sixty-five miles between sunrise and sunset of a long day. The writer, with three men to his carriage, traveled from Osaka to Nara, a distance of thirty miles, between 10 A.M. and 5 P.M., with a halt of an hour for dinner. The next day he continued his journey to Kioto, thirty miles more, in a pouring rain, with the same men in the same time. The coolies were as fresh on the second day as on the first, and as cheerful as one could wish, although their passenger was not a light weight, and was suffering from a lameness that prevented his walking up any of the hills.

Riding with a jinrikisha is cheap enough for the most contracted purse. The tariff in the large cities of Japan is ten cents an hour, or fifty cents for a day of twelve hours, and if the traveler wishes to keep his carriage waiting for him, and subject to his call, he can readily make a bargain for not over three dollars a week. Most of the foreigners in Japan keep their own carriages by buying a jinrikisha, and hiring a couple of men for six or seven dollars each per month. They perform the work of general servants about the house and grounds, and whenever the master wishes to ride out he orders the jinrikisha and its accompanying coolies. A carriage of ordinary workmanship costs about twenty-five dollars, and a "swell" one can be had for fifty or something less. Its name is compounded of three Japanese words—jin, man, riki, power, and sha, carriage—jin-riki-sha, man-power-carriage.

The stranger in Japan, China, or India, finds it disagreeable to ride on men's shoulders, or to be drawn by them in a vehicle. Especially is this the case in Japan, where you have the struggling and perspiring man directly before you, and witness the effort he is making to propel you over the ground. Everybody experiences this feeling, and his first ride in a man-power carriage is rarely agreeable. But when you remember that the coolie considers it a favor to be employed, and that nothing would displease him more than to have the offer of his services refused, you will change your mind, and take your ease in a jinrikisha. Regard him as you would the man whom you employ to saw wood or dig potatoes; he is thankful for the opportunity of working, and so is the Japanese coolie who exerts his strength to pull you about. And when you have done with him give a few cents extra, and he will thank you with an expression so heartfelt that you cannot fail to be touched by it.

Many of the Japanese still prefer the cango to the jinrikisha, but it is rapidly going out of use in all the localities where the miniature chaise can run. The cango is a sort of open-sided basket slung on a pole, and carried by two men in the same way that a sedan-chair is carried. The occupant must double his legs beneath him, and sit perfectly still; this is easy enough for a Japanese, but is torture to a European. No man from Europe or America will ever find the cango enjoyable until a system is invented whereby he can unscrew his legs before starting, and screw them on again when his journey is completed.

  CHAPTER XX.

PEDESTRIAN TRAVELING.—MOUNTAIN CLIMBING.

The earliest form of traveling was on foot; it was in universal use before the horse and other beasts of burden were subdued to the will of man, and before the railway and steamship were invented. In spite of the lapse of ages, and the many improvements in locomotive means, it continues to be practiced by a great many persons, and will doubtless so continue as long as men have feet to walk with. The large majority of pedestrians are such from necessity, but the class that prefers to walk when it can afford to ride is by no means small.

The railway has been the great destroyer of pedestrian travel, and, at the present time, very few people, except those absolutely without money, take to the high-road where there is an iron way to carry them to their destination. Unless there is some reason for the foot journey beyond the desire to reach a certain place, the railway affords the greatest economy of money and time, as the merest glance at the figures will show. Suppose a man wishes to go from New York to Philadelphia, a distance of ninety miles; at thirty miles a day he will be three days on the road if he uses his feet, and three hours if he takes the railway. The fare by railway will be two dollars, and his loss of time half a day; reckoning his meals and lodging along the high-road at one dollar a day his expenses in footing it would be three dollars, without counting the loss of time, which most Americans consider equivalent to money. Far greater is the contrast in a long journey across the Continent, or over a considerable portion of it, so that the most miserly of men is not likely to put his own feet in competition with the wheels of the locomotive.

Pedestrian journeys in America are mainly confined to young men in search of health, who throng the routes of New England and northern New York in the summer months. In Europe the principal resorts of the pedestrian are the mountain regions of Switzerland, Italy, and Germany, and there is a fair amount of the same kind of travel in Norway, Sweden, and the lake and mountain districts of Scotland. Workmen going from one town to another in search of employment are often encountered, and in some countries of the Continent such journeys are obligatory upon apprentices before they can be allowed to practice the trades they have learned.

Fifty years or more ago there was a half-pedestrian system in vogue in the United States, especially on the great roads leading to the west. It was known by the name of "ride and tie," and many an emigrant of those days found his way west by this process. It was about as follows:

Two men, whom we will call Smith and Jones, unite their funds and buy a horse and saddle. Their baggage is stowed in the saddle-bags, so that neither of them has anything to carry beyond his strong walking-stick. On the morning fixed for their departure Smith mounts the horse and starts at an easy pace along the road, while Jones follows on foot. It has been arranged that the first "tie" shall be at a village twenty miles away.

In four hours Smith and the horse have made the twenty miles, and the horse is put up at a tavern and fed, while Smith proceeds on foot. When Jones arrives the horse has had a rest of three hours or more, and is ready for another twenty miles which Jones proceeds to give him. He passes Smith on the way, and arrives at the next village, where he orders supper and awaits the arrival of his comrade. They spend the night in company, and the next morning the journey is continued in the same way; generally the scheme is reversed on successive mornings, the one who was first to ride one day being the last to do so on the next. In this way they make forty miles a day, and each of them has only a comfortable walk while the horse is kept in good condition.

For a pedestrian tour among the mountains, either of Europe or America, the principal requisites are a reasonably strong constitution, good feet, and good shoes to wear on them. Shoes are preferable to boots, as the latter are apt to weaken the ankles, especially if made with elastic at the sides. Besides they are heavier than shoes, and where we are taking a walk of many miles every infinitesimal fraction of an ounce added to the weight of our foot-gear counts against us. Of course there are occasions where boots are required for protection against mud, snow, or sand, but where roads are good and smooth shoes should have the preference. They should be easy without being loose, and sufficiently wide to give freedom to the toes. The soles should be broad, and the heels low and wide; all doubts on this score can be settled by ascertaining the kind of shoes worn by the professional pedestrians in the great walking-matches that have recently become fashionable.

The author of Baedeker's guide-books is a good adviser in the matter of pedestrian excursions, as he has tramped over the most of Switzerland and Germany, and believes that the best way of "doing" them is on foot. He says as follows:—

When starting on a pedestrian excursion be careful not to overtax your strength. Five or six hours a day are sufficient to begin with, and when no fatigue results from a single day's work that of the next may be increased. By adding half an hour daily to his task, a traveler will soon be able to devote ten or twelve hours out of the twenty-four to the use of his feet. The most experienced pedestrians advise that the limit should be ten hours, except on extraordinary occasions. An even, steady pace should be adopted, and everything like a "spurt" is to be avoided. Many a traveler has broken down in the effort to do more than he ought, either in going too far in a given time, or walking faster than the accustomed pace to see how many miles he could cover in an hour.

For climbing high mountains, special practice in walking is a necessity. There is a great deal of fatigue consequent upon the ascent of Mont Blanc and his snow-covered brethren of the Alps, partly due to the exertion of walking through the snow, and over the rough rocks, and partly to the rarity of the atmosphere in elevated positions. None but good walkers should attempt these journeys, as it is a serious matter to break down at a point far from roads, and where assistance may be a long time coming. The members of the English and other Alpine clubs generally devote at least a month to the ordinary excursions among the mountains before venturing on a "course extraordinaire," like the ascent of Mont Blanc. The ascent of the Matterhorn is far more difficult than that of Mont Blanc, and the preliminary practice proportionally longer.

The equipment for an Alpine ascent above the snow-line is quite simple, but should be of the very best quality. The traveler will need an alpenstock, or strong stick, from five to six feet long; it should be of the best seasoned ash, and one end should be pointed with iron to give it a firm hold on the ice. It should be as light as possible, consistent with strength, and the test to be given is to have it sustain the weight of its owner, when supported at the ends. Ice-axes and ropes are also needed for the higher mountains, and sometimes it is necessary to carry a ladder for crossing crevasses. Mountain-climbing in Switzerland has been reduced to a system, and there are associations of guides who make it a business to accompany tourists in ascents more or less difficult. The ascent of Mont Blanc, formerly so difficult, is now quite easy, as there is a hotel at the "Grands Mulets" where the night is passed, and though the accommodations are limited, they are quite sufficient for the robust traveler. Everything that is needed for the journey can be obtained from the guides at fixed rates, and the only care of the stranger is to see that what he orders is of the best quality.

The regulation time at present for the ascent of Mont Blanc from Chamouny and return is two days. The traveler starts at 7 A.M. and arrives at the Grands Mulets about 3 or 4 in the afternoon. At 4 the next morning he is called, and after a light breakfast a start is made for the summit, which should be reached by nine o'clock. The return to Chamouny is usually accomplished by sunset, but many travelers who have plenty of time at their disposal prefer to spend the second night at the Grands Mulets, and return leisurely on the third day to Chamouny. Each tourist requires a guide and a porter to accompany him, and sometimes half a dozen guides to each tourist are taken. Each guide receives one hundred francs (twenty dollars) for his services, and the porter half that amount, so that the cost of an ascent of Mont Blanc is by no means small. The dangers are now much less than formerly, as the crevasses are all well known to the guides, whose directions should be followed implicitly. The principal peril is from sudden storms of snow, in which travelers are overwhelmed as in a sand-storm in the desert. In 1870 a party of eleven persons perished in a snow-storm; they had been to the summit and were nearly half-way back to the Grands Mulets when the snow-cloud burst upon them. The guides can generally foretell the approach of bad weather, and the cautious tourist will not insist upon making the ascent against their advice.

It has been said that tourists need only go part of the way up the mountain to obtain a certificate of having made the entire ascent, provided they pay for the complete course. It is doubtful if this is the case; not that the guides would be unwilling to oblige a patron, but because the summit is in full view of the village of Chamouny, and parties who make the ascent are watched through powerful telescopes by loungers on the verandas of the hotels.

  CHAPTER XXI.

TRAVELING WITHOUT MONEY.

Anyone can travel who has time and money at his disposal, but it requires genius, or its first cousin, improvidence, to travel without it. One who is not a genius, but who possesses common-sense and prudent habits may see a great deal of the world for a very little cash. Bayard Taylor made the tour of Europe in his younger days for less than five hundred dollars, and devoted more than a year to the journey; how he did it is told in his volume entitled "Views Afoot." He has had many imitators, and some of them have traveled for less than he did; of this class was Ralph Keeler, who claimed to have seen Europe for less than two hundred dollars, but he went through many hardships that the majority of men would decline to undergo.

In the fall of 1880 an account was published of a printer who made a tour around the world in four years, and had only fifty dollars in his pocket when he started. According to his story, he left San Francisco in 1876 as steward of a sailing-ship, which he quitted at Honolulu for work in a newspaper office there. After setting type for a month he arranged to take care of some horses that were being shipped to Melbourne, and in this way he reached Australia. He remained in that country nearly a year, tramping through it, and occasionally working at his trade. He shipped on a coasting-vessel as a sailor in the fall of 1877, was wrecked on a reef, and picked up by a ship that carried him to Suez. Through Egypt and the Holy Land he went as servant to travelers, and as a vagrant, and in this way managed to get to Constantinople, and thence up the Danube to Vienna. From Vienna he walked northward to the shores of the Baltic, where he again became a sailor during the summer of 1878. In the fall of that year he re-crossed Europe, most of the way on foot, till he reached Rome, and from there he proceeded to Spain, and thence to Paris. He was in the French capital till July, 1879, when he had earned money enough to carry him to London, where he remained some weeks, and then sailed for Charleston, S.C. From Charleston he walked through most of the coast States, and when the account was published he had reached Detroit on his way to San Francisco. When asked if he had experienced any real hard times, he answered:—

"I suppose you would call it hard to go twenty-four hours without food, but I have done that many times and it didn't hurt me, and I have lived for weeks at a time without knowing what a bed was, and without clean clothes, except as I would wash my own shirt and wear my coat buttoned closely while it was drying." He said further that such little conveniences as stockings, collars, cuffs, and handkerchiefs never entered his thoughts.

Not many would care to travel after the manner of this wandering printer, but there is a fair number of Americans who set out to see the world with very little more money than this man had in his pocket at the commencement of his journey. If the annals of the American consulates could be published a great many of us would be surprised to know the number of appeals to the consular pocket for aid. The story usually told at the consulates is that the traveler's remittances have failed to reach him, and he desires a loan for a few days till his letters arrive. They generally do not come, and when the money that was borrowed is gone another appeal is made and with the same excuse. When the consul's patience is exhausted (and also his purse), the adventurer makes a final petition for sufficient money to carry him to the next city, where the same story is told, and the same process goes on. In this way a tourist may live comfortably for a couple of weeks or so in each of the principal cities of Europe, provided he can find the consuls able and willing to "lend" him what he wants.

The foregoing is intended as a hint to the enterprising American who has neither conscience nor money and is desirous of traveling abroad. The best time for him to begin his travels on this plan is just after a change of the presidential administration has caused a sweeping removal in the consular offices and the appointment of a new set of incumbents. A new consul is anxious to be polite and obliging, and will often prove a rich mine to the adventurer, while the old one has become case-hardened in the service, and is sceptical about the stories that the unfortunates tell him, and you should gauge your appeal according to the time a man has filled a consular office. If he is newly-arrived you can make three or four loans of ten dollars or so while waiting for your remittances, and can then borrow more to move on with. If he has been there a year or two you can hardly expect more than a couple of preliminaries, or perhaps only one, and if he has been there three or four years you cannot expect him to do more than pay your second or third-class passage to the next place.

The adventurer who seeks to travel for nothing sometimes claims to be the correspondent of a newspaper, and not unfrequently he writes letters for a daily or weekly journal. If he cannot obtain the loan he wants he revenges himself by writing an abusive letter about the consul who has refused him, and sometimes he gets the latter into trouble. Nine-tenths of the abusive letters about our consuls abroad come from the fellows who try to borrow money and fail. As a general thing the American consuls in Europe and Asia are capable men who render their country good service for inadequate pay; the government gives them no contingent fund from which to make up their losses from loans to swindlers, and all these sums must come out of their own pockets. The evil is so great that there is not a consul who has been a year in the service who does not tremble when a strange American presents himself at the consulate and wishes to see the representative of his country. The chances are three to one that a "loan" is wanted, and the tale that accompanies the application is so pitiful that it would melt the heart of a bronze dog. Some of the consuls require strangers to state their business to the clerk before they can see the chief, but it needs more courage to demand it than is possessed by the majority of American officials.

Some of our representatives abroad have painful recollections of visits from "inspectors of consulates" appointed by the government to make tours of inspection in various parts of the world. Two at least of this gentry made it a practice to ask a loan of fifty dollars of each consul before inspecting his office; if the money was forthcoming the office was speedily examined and found to be in excellent condition, but if the consul was not in a lending mood he was reported to have his books in bad shape, and to be personally unfit for the position he was filling. It is needless to say that the great majority of the consuls saw the point, and imitated the example of Captain Scott's coon by "coming down" before the fire was opened. And no one of them to this day has been repaid a penny of the borrowed money.

Memorandum: If you can add the title of "Inspector of Consulates" to your other accomplishments you will vastly improve your chances of swindling your way around the world. The most of these officials are men of excellent character, and if you try the rôle you must assume the manners of a gentleman, however much you may be devoid of his instincts.

There is a fair number of American adventurers in the European cities who live by searching out their country-men as fast as they arrive and making loans more or less small. These fellows watch the hotel registers and the lists of strangers in the newspapers, and their methods of conducting their operations are numerous and varied. London and Paris contain more of them than any other cities, and perhaps London has a greater number than its French rival. One of the most ingenious devices for fleecing the stranger was adopted by an American who lived some years in Paris; he had no patent upon it, and as he is dead now anyone who chooses may take it up. It was as follows:—

He operated around the Grand Hotel, and other resorts of Americans, and managed to make himself acquainted with as many new-comers as possible. He was particular in cultivating anyone to give his card and ask that of the stranger, and to ascertain at what hotel the latter was stopping. Immediately they separated he called at the hotel in question and left his card, so that the stranger would be impressed with his new-found friend. Then the next morning about eight o'clock a messenger would come in great haste with a note from the swindler, which ran about like this:—