During this time we were steadily advancing, and in the afternoon we came in sight of the beautiful monastery of Turuchansk, standing up above the trees like a big white lighthouse, its silvered dome glistening in the brilliant sunshine. It was our first real glimpse of Holy Russia, and a welcome sight after our long and wearisome journey. The river still retained its noble proportions, but was so full of sandbanks that we had to make a big détour before we could approach the shore. The beach, for it was nothing less, was covered with boats and quite a crowd of people, for our arrival was doubtless an event in this quiet place.

As it was uncertain how long we should be staying, we lost no time in getting ashore and making for the monastery. Its beautiful architecture offered a curious and striking contrast to the squalid wooden huts clustered round it, and in its quiet precincts we felt an indefinable sense of repose, which was very pleasant after the continual noise on board the Phœnix. We had no difficulty whatever in being shown over the interior of the building, which, I must confess, was somewhat disappointing, and did not equal the outside effect. As is usual in the Greek Church, sacred pictures constituted the chief feature, and, with their gaudy metal appendages, offered a great contrast to the bare whitewashed walls. As none of us understood Russian, all the interesting details given us by our guide (a monk, by the way, of most “unmonkish” appearance) were lost to us. Still, we were much interested in a very heavy sort of iron jacket and cross, which, we understood him to say, had been continually worn by some former ultra-religious inhabitant of the place. For what purpose he had thus afflicted himself we could not make out, but let us hope it did him a lot of good and brought him to an early grave, as was doubtless his wish when first donning it.

The few monks live in a wooden building just behind the church, and share their quarters with the police officer of the district—an arrangement, I hear, not at all to their taste; still, they have to grin and bear it, as evidenced by the sentry-box which stood at the very door of the sacred edifice, and in which a Cossack is stationed when any Government money is in the district, for it is always kept for safety in the monastery itself. Our guide, the monk, had very comfortable quarters, and certainly far more luxurious than one would have expected for a man of his austere life. Here again Russian hospitality asserted itself. It is certainly a wonderful trait in the national character; I have never seen it equalled in any other country. Our genial host insisted on our breaking bread with him, and produced some delicious caviare and other eatables, which looked so appetizing we could not refuse.

On our return to the ship we learnt that the police officer of the district had gone on to the next village, some three hundred versts further up. As by this time the men had finished loading the wood, steam was got up, and soon we were once again moving onward, and, ere the moon had risen, peaceful Turuchansk, with its quaint monastery, was far behind us. In spite of all the adverse prophecies, the weather not only continued fine, but, during the next few days, became absolutely warm again. We made capital progress, as we had the wind in our favour, and reached the village of Werchneimbackskoi even sooner than we had expected.

Our arrival was hailed by a salute fired from a small cannon on the hillside, and the villagers crowded forth to have a look at us. It was a picturesque spot, and looked doubly so in the warm sunshine, the Oriental-looking little church, with its white walls and green cupolas, standing out in brilliant relief against the blue sky. In a short time the police officer arrived, accompanied by his clerk and a couple of Cossacks, and we thus received our first visit from official Russia. The Russians, physically, are undoubtedly a fine set of men; nearly all I have seen so far have been above the average height. This officer topped them all, for he must have stood at least six feet four inches, and, with his tall astrachan képi and long fur coat, seemed a huge fellow, a very good-looking one to boot. Our passports had to be examined here, and a sort of inquest held on the body of poor Lee. As the proceedings had no interest for me, not understanding Russian, I went ashore and had a stroll through the village. It certainly was a great improvement on any of the others we had yet come to: the houses even had some pretence to architecture, and looked very pretty with their quaint wooden porticoes. Dogs, as usual, seemed more numerous than inhabitants; and, had it not been that I knew how peaceful they are, except among themselves, it would have required some nerve to pass through them, for the row they made was simply awful.

In the evening the police officer dined with us on board the Phœnix, and a very pleasant fellow he seemed. He told us that his jurisdiction extended over an enormous extent of country, which, on consulting the map, we found to be no less than five times the size of Great Britain, extending right away to the Arctic Ocean—an awful and desolate tract, which he was obliged to visit twice a year. During the winter, he said, the cold was so intense that at times he had experienced as much as 45 deg. of frost (Réaumur)! We could not help telling him that he looked remarkably well, in spite of all these hardships.

The next morning a messenger came to the ship expressly to ask if I would go ashore and take a sketch of the village priest and his family. This was rather a compliment, so I could hardly refuse, more especially as a few minutes later the worthy man himself arrived to show me the way. (Could it be possible, I thought, that they took in the Illustrated London News in this far-away Siberian village, and had heard I was on board?) The priest was a person of remarkable appearance—tall, slim, and exceedingly good-looking, in an effeminate sort of way—with a long fair beard and flowing locks, quite a biblical-looking personage, so I immediately spotted him as a good subject for a sketch. We went up to his house, and I was presented to Madame, who was most commonplace-looking, and his children, who were still more so. Fortunately I had brought my camera with me, so to please him I took them all in a group, and shuddered to think how it would look when developed. I then asked the gentleman if I might make a separate study of him; and he not only said he would be very pleased to let me, but even offered to come on board to sit for me. So, during the morning, I made a careful pencil study of him. While doing it, to my astonishment the police officer, who had come to have a look at what I was doing, asked me if I would like to do him afterwards. This made it late in the evening before we got away. We, however, had an extra large amount of wood in the bunkers, so hoped to make up for lost time.

Nothing of importance occurred till a couple of days later, when there was a slight outbreak of fire on board, which, fortunately, we were soon able to extinguish, or it might have developed into a serious affair. As it was, it detained us some hours. It was caused by some dry wood on the upper deck igniting through being too close to the base of the funnel (the upper deck being a Siberian addition to the Phœnix). We were now nearing the famous Kamin Pass, which, with the rapids close to it, is the crux of the river navigation. It was all along considered doubtful whether the Phœnix would be able to get her four barges up at one time, or would have to make several journeys; no such load had ever been brought up the rapids before.