The first day we travelled through a vast cultivated plain, and the landscape was dotted over with a sprinkling of houses and many trees. The children brought forget-me-nots and anemones to sell at the wayside stations; but on this line the towns and hamlets are fewer than on the one we had just left. Though the land seemed so uninhabited the train always seemed full, and the passengers made themselves thoroughly at home. The second-class travellers, who were going any distance, put on fresh clothes, the ladies dressed in négligé costumes like tea-gowns. One amazingly stout lady put on a muslin gown over a pink slip, and looked just like an animated pin-cushion. These people seem to wear all their jewels too, when travelling. Often it was difficult to imagine where the few people visible at the stations had sprung from, especially to the south of Orenburg. This is one of the only two important places between Kinel and Tashkent, and is the principal town of the province of the same name. There are four mission stations in the Orenburg diocese, and twenty-seven Mohammedans were baptized last year. To the south of Orenburg the land becomes more and more desolate-looking, and the vegetation is so sparse that one can hardly believe it is possible for anything to subsist upon it. Perhaps that is the reason why the Kirghiz nomadic tribes, who inhabit this territory, known as the Kirghiz Steppes, cultivate a peculiar kind of sheep called “stéatopyge” by the French traveller Capus. This sheep has a singularly fat tail, sometimes so long and heavy that it has to go on a little wheeled cart, and it is this tail which suffices to nourish the sheep in time of scarcity of herbage, in the same way that the camel is said to live on his hump; at the end of the winter the tail has dwindled to quite ordinary proportions. Unfortunately we did not see any of these interesting animals (though I once met one at Delhi), but during the following days we saw hardly any living things but camels, much used also by the Kirghiz. The earth seemed utterly barren, and exuded nothing but salt; hour by hour elapsed, only varied by the interest of stopping at some wayside station, standing alone in the desert, where samovars full of boiling water were eagerly sought by the passengers with their various pots and kettles; the ordinary charge for a potful is three farthings, and one wonders how the poor creatures who supply it are able to make any living out of so poor a harvest. Their only other wares are eggs (generally hard boiled), bottles of milk, and baskets of oranges and lemons. The latter are always in request for Russian tea, and fetch a better price than most things. The peasants look most amiable, good-natured creatures, and are eminently picturesque in their embroidered blouses of blue, green, scarlet, or white, fastened in at the waist with a leathern belt. For the last half century the Russians have been gradually colonising the steppes. Some people labour under the impression that the agricultural classes are not only happier but also more successful when they are ignorant, but this has certainly not proved the case in the Russian Empire. The colonists have considerable advantages offered to them by the Government in the way of cheap grain and agricultural implements, but their ignorance of the rotation of crops and the necessity of feeding the land cause them to exhaust it in a few years’ time. The contrast between the Russian peasant and his German neighbour when you cross the frontier is extraordinary, and it is deplorable to consider the latent wealth of Siberia in conjunction with the present condition of its peasant population.

Both on the Turkestan and on the Trans-Siberian Railway we met agents of the British and Foreign Bible Society selling Gospels, Bibles, and Testaments in various languages, of which they had a good assortment in attractive bindings and extremely cheap. These agents are allowed free passes on all the lines in Russia. Ten of these passes are granted annually, and the colporteurs are able to carry on what may well be called a mission work among the immigrants and others. The number of immigrants into Siberia in 1908 reached the astonishing figure of 760,000 persons. A Russian red cross nurse told me that she had travelled in charge of a train full of such immigrants, and the description of the horrors of the journey are only to be equalled by Zola’s tale of the pilgrims to Lourdes. To these immigrants many free copies of the Gospels are given, and the value of such a gift in that land must be very great. Books must be scarce in the greater part of the country, though, thanks to the generosity of a Russian there is a village libraries’ organisation in the province of Tomsk, by means of which fifty villages have been supplied with libraries. The generosity of the state railways department is not confined to the gifts of free passes for the colporteurs, but also the free carriage of all their books from the moment they enter Russian territory, and the remitting of all duty upon them. All the employés, too, of the Bible Society are exempt from the Trade and Industrial Tax.

The excellent example of the railway companies has been followed by many of the shipping companies on the Black Sea, the White Sea, and the Dnieper, Don, and Volga rivers. The companies, where there is a foreign element present, are much less willing to grant these facilities. Even the tramway companies in many towns give free tickets to colporteurs.

The second day we reached the little town of Aral at the head of the Aral Sea, after passing through the most desolate country: it could not have been more accurately described than in the words of Browning:

Lake Aral, like the Caspian Sea, is salt: at present it covers more than 26,000 square miles, but it is always shrinking. There is a considerable fishing industry on it, and freshwater fish are found, but its shores are so barren that they are practically uninhabited. The Steppes which bound it on the north are inhabited by a nomad population of Kirghiz and Uzbegs living in felt tents (called kibitkas), whose main occupation is breeding cattle, horses, camels, and sheep. In the winter time they go to the more sheltered regions of Syr Daria, the province through which the line next passes.

We crossed the Syr Daria River, better known as the classic Jaxartes, and the only town of any size that lay on the route was Turkestan or Hazret. It still possesses one superb monument of the past, the mosque of Hazréti-Timur, built in 1404 by order of Tamerlane, which is said to be one of the finest monuments of that epoch, and is visited by many pilgrims.

As we neared Tashkent we felt a certain amount of anxiety lest we should only have reached the goal to be ignominiously turned back by the police, despite our special permit; but apparently our appearance was disarming, and at Tashkent they did not even inquire for any thing beyond our passports. At Samarkand we handed them over as usual on arrival to the proprietor of the hotel, and the next day he said the police wished to know if we had the proper authorisation to visit Turkestan. We produced our note verbale, which evidently they were unable to read, as it was in French; they looked us up and down, from head to toe, asked if we had nothing more to show, and on being assured that we had not, and that the note verbale gave full permission for travel, they somewhat reluctantly took their departure. At Kazan (Bokhara) they got a Russian lady to look at our permit, who was able to assure them it was quite en règle, for they admitted they could not read it themselves. We heard that had we wished to go anywhere off the railway line we should not have been allowed to do so.

The district round Tashkent was a wonderful contrast to the dreary desert through which we had come, and prepared us in some measure for the wealth of foliage in which that town is embowered. Along the line were trees all decked in the vivid colouring of early spring; the air was filled with the fragrance of their blossoms, and the sound of running water and rustling leaves whenever we halted, made a happy change from the monotonous harshness of railway noises. The afforestation work of the Russian authorities has already produced a marked difference in the rainfall, and they are keeping a much needed check on the cutting down of trees for firewood throughout the province.