There are two means of getting from Kiakhta, the Siberian frontier town, to the Mongolian capital, Ourga—either by camel caravan or in an ordinary Russian tarantass, drawn by horses. I chose the latter conveyance. The distance, a little over two hundred miles, takes four days, as the same horses have to do the entire journey, there being no means of getting fresh relays on the road.

It was a lovely, spring-like morning when, in a fairly comfortable vehicle with three strong horses, I crossed the frontier, my saddle-horse being fastened loosely alongside the tarantass, to be ready at a moment’s notice in case of need when fording rivers or for sporting purposes.

What actually marks the “frontier” it would be difficult to say. Beyond a narrow, dirty strip of what I believe is called “neutral ground,” but which is evidently used principally as a sort of Russo-Chinese dust-bin, there is nothing to denote the borders of the two vast empires, and the road passes right across into Mongolia without a break. Many years ago, I learnt, some sort of barrier existed, but it has long since been done away with. The Russians, who, as a rule, are so fond of sticking up their national coat of arms and placing their black-and-white sentry-boxes wherever practicable, doubtless consider this remote corner unworthy of such ostentation, for there is here a striking absence of these (in Siberia) familiar objects. Mentioning this noteworthy absence of any national insignia here, reminds me of a remarkable instance of clairvoyance on the part of a traveller who crossed this frontier within the last five years, and who described, in his subsequent “Impressions de Voyage,” in a most graphic manner, having passed, on that auspicious occasion, “a guard-house and high wooden gates,” which were burnt down nineteen years previously! Once, however, on the other side of the neutral ground, one finds one’s self in quite another world, so to speak, for here is the wonderfully quaint little Chinese town of Maimachin, which presents as great a contrast to the neighbouring Siberian town, Kiakhta, as could be imagined.

From the outside, little can be seen of Maimachin, as it is surrounded by a high wooden palisade; but once entered through the picturesque archway, Siberia is, as it were, left so completely that it takes a few minutes to get used to the wonderful transformation, for at one step, so to speak, one finds one’s self in the Far East, with all its brilliant colouring and strange costumes. There are probably no two nations in the world which present a greater dissimilarity in point of artistic taste than the Russian and the Chinese; so, going direct from one to the other, the contrast is positively startling. Maimachin is a poor specimen of a Chinese town, but is almost like a museum compared with the monotonous aspect of Siberian cities. This town, with about two thousand inhabitants, is of some importance as the final stage for the camel caravans with tea before they reach Siberia and the consignment is handed over to the Russian merchants. It therefore always presents a busy and animated appearance. A most striking peculiarity here is the entire absence of women; for, according to Chinese law, no female of that nation is permitted to dwell beyond the Great Wall. The Chinese who seek their fortunes in Mongolia readily, however, console themselves with Mongolian ladies, in the absence of their own countrywomen.

After passing through Maimachin, the road—a broad, well-defined track—lay for many miles across level grassy plains, bounded in the extreme distance by a low range of hills, and was flat and uninteresting in the extreme. A few wretched yourts, or huts, with some camels and cattle browsing here and there, were the only signs of life in the vast solitude.

Before proceeding further into Mongolia, a short description of the Mongols and their habitations may be of interest. A yourt is a sort of cone-shaped hut, covered with a kind of coarse felt made out of sheep’s wool. Its walls are held up on the inside, to a height of about five feet, by a circular arrangement of wooden lattice-work; this also supports the roof, not unlike a huge umbrella, the ribs fitting tightly into the lower part; the centre of this is something like a big wheel, from which the ribs radiate, being left open to allow the smoke from the fireplace to escape. This fireplace in the centre of the apartment is usually a rough sort of iron basket on feet. One portion of the interior is invariably furnished with a kind of altar, on which are placed various religious emblems; for the Mongols are a sincerely devout people, and their devotions form an important item in their daily routine. The residence of a noble or rich Mongol is usually composed of several yourts for the different members of the family, and is often gorgeously furnished, one or two I have visited having valuable carpets and curios in them which simply made my mouth water. In such dwellings of rich Mongols one yourt is specially set apart for the reception of visitors; but these abodes of wealth are very few and far between, possibly because there are not many rich Mongols. By “rich,” I mean being the possessor of many horses or camels and head of cattle and much yamba, as Chinese bar silver is called, for gold is not valued at all by the Mongols. The average yourts were indescribably filthy, not only serving as shelter for families of several persons of both sexes herded indiscriminately together, but in many cases for sheep or goats with their young. As, added to which, the smoke from the fire as a rule only partially escapes, the atmosphere under such conditions may be imagined. Living, therefore, in such human pigsties, it is not to be wondered that the ordinary Mongol presents an extremely unsavoury appearance, so that it is often difficult to tell whether nature gave him a black or a white skin; for they are not a water-loving race, cleanliness evidently not being one of the appurtenances of godliness from Mongol-Buddhist point of view.

The curious fashion of the women fixing their hair in a sort of circle round their faces by means of massive silver ornaments has often a very incongruous effect, as I have seen old hags, dressed in a mass of rags which a professional London rag-picker would pass in disgust, with quite a little fortune on their heads, in many cases even among the poorer classes to the value of £30 or £40! All the family savings go first towards providing a wife with the orthodox jewellery, as a girl is not spoken of as a “woman” till her hair is dressed properly—never mind the rest of her wardrobe. Among the very poorest classes I have occasionally seen strips of wood used when silver could not be afforded, but this is very exceptional. Of course, in their dress, as in their dwellings, there are social class differences, and the rich or noble Mongols wear clothes of the finest silks of the most gorgeous hues, their wives and daughters being decorated with costly silver jewellery of exquisite workmanship. Among women of the higher classes are to be found actual beauties, and the curious method of arranging the hair is really very becoming when it encircles a pretty face with sparkling eyes and pearly teeth. I remember on one occasion seeing a princess riding through Ourga who was so startlingly beautiful that the apparition simply took my breath away; it was like a vision from the “Arabian Nights,” and for several days after I felt quite “smitten” with the lovely unknown one, and my appetite suffered considerably in consequence!

Although as a distinct nation the Mongols are slowly disappearing, owing to gradual fusion with the Chinese, still there are many amongst the descendants of the old princes who yet cling to the idea that the glorious times of Genghis Khan will again return, and that some day another such leader will appear and restore to this once so mighty race its old prestige. In fact, there is one sect amongst the people who believes that Genghis Khan is not dead at all, but has only disappeared for a time, and will on some not very distant date again return to earth; and in the national songs the name of this hero and his great deeds are continually appearing. En attendant this millennium, however, the Mongols have lost all trace of the formidable warriors they were in the past, and have lapsed into such quiet and inoffensive beings that it is hard to realize they are descendants of the mighty horde which once conquered Russia, and threw all Europe into a state of panic. Of their old national characteristics but one really remains—their wonderful horsemanship; for I believe that the Mongols as a nation enjoy the undisputed reputation of being the finest horsemen in the world, and this in spite of their, to European ideas, somewhat ungainly seat in consequence of the use of a short stirrup. One can imagine what magnificent cavalry these men must have made under their old leaders. However, revenons a nos moutons.

As we gradually neared the confines of this “steppe,” trees appeared on either side, till we were in a sort of open forest when we reached the foot of the hills. Out on the plains, in the brilliant sunshine, there had not been the slightest trace on the ground of the recent heavy falls of snow; but among the trees and on the higher ground it still lay thickly, and gave a very cold and wintry appearance to the scene. The extreme mildness of the temperature was, however, rapidly doing its work, and under the genial rays of the sun the remaining vestiges of winter fast disappearing. The road, in consequence, was in an awful state, in many places the water and mud being so deep as to render it almost impassable. Our three game little horses, however, struggled bravely on, and, without any further excitement than the waving of the driver’s puny whip, managed to get us along.

With the exception of a couple of hours’ rest in the middle of the day, we pushed on steadily till nightfall, when we reached the station where the halt for the night was to be made—a couple of yourts close together forming a sort of Mongol farm, where my driver from experience knew he was certain to be able to get hay and water for the horses. I do not think I was ever in a more gloomy or depressing spot. It was a sort of narrow valley between two high hills, with scarcely a trace of vegetation. Heavy clouds, gradually coming up, now quite obscured the sky, and the deadly stillness of the air betokened some approaching change in the weather during the night. All around were curious looking objects lying on the ground. In the twilight I could not at first distinguish what they were, but on a nearer inspection I discovered that these were dead oxen. I counted fourteen lying within a few yards of the huts; and, judging from the odour, I imagine they must have been dead some considerable time. On inquiring of my driver the reason of so wholesale a slaughter, he told me that they had not been killed, but had died from starvation, owing to the severe winter. The wretched inhabitants of the two yourts, in the apathy caused by their misfortunes, had not the energy to remove the decomposing carcases out of sight. I could not help feeling thankful that we had encamped far enough away to be clear of the perfume of this pestilent farmyard.

The night I passed comfortably enough wrapped up in my dacha in the tarantass, whilst my driver, used to the peculiarities of Mongol life, sought his couch inside one of the yourts. Towards morning it came on to blow and rain, and in a short time such a tornado burst over us, that I expected every minute the ramshackle vehicle would be blown bodily over; fortunately, however, it was heavy enough to withstand the gale, which abated almost as suddenly as it had arisen, and when towards five o’clock we made a start, it was a beautifully clear morning, with every promise of a fine day. The country presented now, if anything, a more desolate appearance than any we had hitherto passed through—it was a “desert” in every respect. All around were low sandy hills, without even a bush to break their monotonous appearance; not even a blade of grass was to be seen on the wide expanse of stone and sand. The aspect was uninteresting in the extreme, so I got my driver to “hurry up a bit,” so as to get out of the dreary surroundings as quickly as possible. We had to do the next eight hours with scarcely any stoppage, as there was no sign of any human habitation anywhere in this solitude, and no human beings meant no water or hay for the horses, so we were obliged to push on at any cost. About one o’clock we at length sighted a few wretched yourts, and in a few minutes drew up at the station, after the longest stage we had yet made. The horses did not seem very fatigued, however; as long as they got plenty to eat and drink, the distances between the stations affected them but little—the hard work they were used to. Four hours we had to pass in this dreary uninteresting place. I managed somehow to while away the time with my pipe and sketch-book, and very glad was I when we at last started preparations for continuing the journey.

The day, which had commenced so brightly, had not fulfilled its early promise; the sky had gradually become obscured, and, as on the previous afternoon, the wind also showed signs of renewed activity; so when the yemschik told me that we had forty versts (twenty-eight miles) to do before we reached the next station, and that on the way a nasty bit of river had to be crossed, I was still more anxious to push on, so as to reach our encampment before dark if possible. For several miles the road now lay along a level plain, intersected here and there by small brooks, swelled into rushing torrents owing to the recent rains, and which in many cases were only with great difficulty crossed, as the banks were generally very steep. Owing to the many delays and the frequent big détours we had to make, night was upon us when we at last reached the river the yemschik had told me of in the afternoon. By this time the wind, which fortunately was at our backs, had changed to a piercing cold gale from the north, and snow was beginning to fall heavily. There was every prospect of an extremely dirty night, and one which I should not have cared to be out in anywhere under any circumstances, still less in a rickety tarantass on the desolate steppes of Mongolia. In the darkness I could hear the rushing sound of the swollen river as it raced by, and I could just manage to discern its turbid stream by the large masses of ice floating by like ghosts in the gloom.

It was anything but an encouraging spectacle, and had there been the slightest sign of anything to afford a kind of shelter, I should have persuaded the driver to wait until daybreak before crossing; but all around was bleak, open plain, over which the merciless wind blew with ever increasing force, and the driving snow felt like so many needles, so there was absolutely nothing for it but to chance getting across the river, as the man said the station was only some ten versts off. The horses, however, evidently took a different view of the matter, and it was some time before they could be got to advance even to the water’s edge, and still longer before they would venture into it. It was an awkward moment, for they started plunging and kicking to such an extent, that I expected every moment to find myself in the water with the tarantass on the top of me. We had nearly got over, and without any incident, for the water was barely four feet deep, when my saddle horse was seized with ungovernable fear, and managed to break loose somehow, and bolted back as fast as he could. A few minutes after and we were safe on the opposite bank.

In the mean time the snow was coming down so thickly that everything was already completely covered with it, so much so that it was impossible to distinguish the track leading from the river. In vain did the yemschik get down and search about on his hands and knees for some clue to guide him as to its whereabouts. His efforts were futile, for there was absolutely nothing to go by; and although after a few minutes’ search he got up and drove off full speed, I felt convinced by his manner that he was on a wild-goose chase. And so it proved, for in a very short time he pulled up again and once more got down to have another search. But it was useless, as I could see by the bewildered way in which he was looking about, and every minute made the chances of hitting on the track still more remote, for all this time it was snowing so thickly that it was almost impossible to see a yard ahead. The cold was also intense.

On the man getting back on to his seat, as I thought with the intention of driving on further, I asked him what he intended doing, as I felt sure it was useless risk going on blindly, and perchance getting turned over into some gully or losing ourselves quite hopelessly. At first he did not reply, and when he did it was only to mumble out something about hearing dogs barking close by, so there must be a yourt near. I listened, but heard absolutely nothing but the roaring and screeching of the wind; when, on looking at the fellow again, I saw to my horror that he was going to sleep—the long exposure to the cold was beginning to take effect. Sleep under such conditions I was well aware meant death, so I immediately sprang up and commenced shaking him as hard as I could, and after a while succeeded in waking him. I then told him that I had decided not to risk going on any further, but to remain where we were till morning, and that we should have to unharness the horses and make them as comfortable as we could with some oats, which we providentially happened to have left. Suiting my action to my words, I got out and lent him a hand as well as I could, although it was more to show him that I intended to stand no nonsense than to really help; for Siberian harness is a complicated arrangement of tied ropes and straps, which wants some knowing before meddling with it in the dark. My determination had the desired effect, for in a very few minutes we had the horses stalled on either side of the shafts, which we managed to prop up, and by placing a piece of loose sacking over them, made a very good impromptu manger, out of which the three hardy brutes were soon eating their oats as tranquilly as though in a stable, paying not the slightest heed to the snow or wind, so used are they to be out in all weathers.

All being secure, I then ordered the man to get into the tarantass and roll himself up in his sheepskin, and after a stiff glass of vodka apiece, to keep out as much cold as possible, I attempted to go to sleep. I say attempted, for very little sleep did I get, and I hope never again in my life to spend such a wretched night as I did that 8th of April. The cold seemed to come in at every corner and crevice of the hood which sheltered us, and it was almost impossible to get even the chill off one, whilst the whistling of the wind around and the uneasy movements of the horses combined to keep me from anything but just dozing off till the welcome dawn appeared; and with it the weather cleared up and the storm abated. Then what a magnificent spectacle presented itself to my eyes on looking out of the tarantass! in spite of being cramped in every joint with the cold, I could not help being impressed with the grandeur of the effect. We were right at the very foot of the mountains, which, covered with snow, towered high up above us, like dim white monoliths against the deep blue sky, their summits, which caught the rays of the rising sun, glowing like solid gold.

The yemschik, who had got up some little time before me, had been meanwhile reconnoitring for the lost track, and eventually found it only a short distance away, but quite in another direction to the one we had been proceeding in; so it was fortunate we had not gone on, as he himself owned. The horses, though naturally not looking over-bright, appeared none the worse for their exposure to the storm, so, before proceeding to the station, the man suggested his galloping back on one of them a short distance, to look if he could see anything of our runaway. This I agreed to; so off he went, and, as luck had it, returned in less than an hour with the delinquent in tow. He had found it on the bank of the river, close by where it had bolted. We were not long in reaching the station after this, and, in spite of its grimy interior, I managed to make myself really comfortable in front of its cheerful fire till it was time to start again.

We had now reached the crux of the journey to Ourga, the pass through the Manhati Mountains. I gathered, from what the Mongol of the yourt was telling my yemschik, that the road further on was in a very dangerous condition, and that therefore he would go with us part of the way, to lend a hand in case of accident. We therefore made a start, under the pilotage of our good-natured host, and he and I rode on a little distance ahead to ascertain the condition of the track after the storm. The sharp, exhilarating morning air and the bright sunshine considerably helped to liven me up again, and even my wiry little horse, with a good feed inside him, was as game as possible, and evidently not a bit the worse for his night’s outing. It had undoubtedly been a very severe frost during, or immediately after, the storm, for the steep track was simply coated with ice; so we had to proceed very cautiously indeed, and pick our way along as well as we could between the rocks, the heavy tarantass following us up very slowly. In many places the road followed the very edge of a precipice, where any accident would probably have been followed by disastrous consequences. It took us two hours to reach the top of the defile, and then, after a few minutes to rest the horses, during which time I had opportunity to fully enjoy as fine a panorama of forest and mountain as I have ever seen, we started on the downward journey, which, if anything, offered still more difficulties than the part just accomplished; for this side of the mountain facing the south, had evidently been but the previous day a sort of series of torrents caused by the melting snow, and the severe frost during the night had been sufficient to coat them thickly with ice, but naturally not strong enough to bear the weight of a man, still less a horse, so my poor yemschik was more than half the time floundering about up to his knees in icy cold water, as he had to lead the horses the whole way, so treacherous was the ground, and timid the animals in consequence. In spite, however, of the almost impassable state of the defile, we managed fortunately to get through without the slightest incident worth mentioning, and exactly four hours after starting reached the plains once more, where the whole aspect of the surroundings changed suddenly as it were.

In front of me, stretching away into the far distance on either side, till where it was bounded by a faint blue wall of mountains, was a vast prairie, and on its surface not a trace of snow was to be seen. In the long grass cattle were grazing peacefully, or standing knee-deep in a rippling stream, which sparkled like a silver ribbon thrown across the green sward. Some little distance off, a group of Mongols, dressed in yellow and red khalats, were galloping merrily along, the sound of their voices and laughter reaching me quite plainly on the still atmosphere; while a gorgeously coloured tent near by gave a still further note of colour to this delightful picture. In the warm sunshine the effect was almost one of having reached a “promised land,” so great a contrast did it offer to the cold wintry appearance on the mountains close by.

The rest of the journey was all clear sailing; for, with the exception of the last part of the road, which was again very mountainous, the track was very level, and we made good progress, encamping for the usual halts at the yourts of friendly Mongols, known to my driver. By the way, an incident occurred on one of these occasions, which may be of interest. At a yourt where we had halted for our midday rest, a large tea caravan, consisting of several hundred carts, was also encamped; all the oxen were out on the plains, and the drivers, a crowd of some twenty swarthy Bourriats and Mongols, were loafing about, smoking and whiling away the time as best they could. My arrival was, of course, quite an event, and, although my man asked them not to do so, they crowded round me in a very offensive manner as soon as I left the tarantass. One may imagine what would be the effect if a Mongol were suddenly to arrive in the midst of a crowd of English roughs. My position was somewhat similar, except that there was no friendly policeman near. I felt instinctively that I was going to have a very unpleasant time of it unless I managed to score off them somehow; nor was I mistaken, for in a few minutes a sort of Mongol-Bourriat chaff commenced at my expense, although, of course, I understood but very little of what was said. Well, this went on for a little while, during which I was positively hemmed in by the crowd, who would persist in feeling my clothes and otherwise making me very uncomfortable. My usually small stock of patience was getting exhausted, and I felt my “back getting up.” At last I could stand it no longer. The leader of the gang, who had been doing his best to distinguish himself in his attempts at “chaff,” having asked me several questions in Russian which I did not understand, I told him curtly that I did not understand him, as I spoke but very little Russian.

“Ah,” said the fellow, imitating my accent, “you don’t speak Russian, don’t you?” and there was a general roar of laughter at his imitative powers, at the same time one of the crowd was violently pushed, or rather thrown, against me from behind.

This was sufficient. My blood was up, so, swinging round my elbows to clear myself some room, I deliberately turned up my cuffs and, going up to the leader, shook my fist close under his nose, at the same time telling him as well as I could that although I could not speak Russian that could any language, as I would soon show him if he wanted to try. My determination had a magical effect, for he retreated a few paces, and, smiling in a sheepish sort of way, replied that he did not understand the Angliski Boxe, and added something in an undertone to the men near him, at which they all gradually moved off and left me master of the situation. I was not interfered with again after that. I had pulled off a successful “bluff”!

On nearing Ourga snow once more began to show itself thickly on the ground, and the temperature gradually lowered till it was so chilly even in the sunshine that I had to keep my furs on. We were now in sight of the last spur of mountains which separated us from the plain in which Ourga is situated, and had a very steep bit of track to do for the next hour or so. At last we reached the top, where was a huge cairn, consisting of bones, stones, and all sorts of rags and odds and ends, offerings to Buddha by pious Mongols on reaching the end of their journey, or the top of the mountain. As it was now all downhill work till we reached our destination, I lit my pipe and composed myself comfortably for the remaining hour before me. But my comfort was destined to be but of short duration, for the track down the mountain-side, in fact the whole way, was simply awful, and the shaking and bumping I got during that hour makes me feel sore even now to think of. The heavy springless tarantass having to go over rocks and gullies which would have smashed up any ordinary conveyance in a few minutes, I got the man to drive slowly in the hope of lessening the shocks as much as possible, for I was doubtful whether my inside could hold out long under such treatment; but slow or fast seemed to make but little difference, so at last in despair I ordered the man to get over the ground as rapidly as possible, in the hopes of getting to my destination with, at any rate, some of my most vital arrangements unimpaired. At length a welcome turn in the road showed me that my sufferings were nearly ended, for on the plain below I saw a huge conglomeration of dirty yourts and wooden palisades, with here and there a somewhat higher building to break the dull level monotony. This dreary place, looking doubly wretched in the wintry surroundings, was the capital of Mongolia, the sacred city of Ourga, of which I had heard so much and travelled so far to see. It was a disappointing sight, to say the least of it, and, with the recollection of my long and comfortless journey still fresh in my memory, the first thought that crossed my mind was, le jeu ne vaut pas la chandelle.