January 17th.—The weather is very bad, the rain is falling in torrents. This morning a boy brought me, instead of tea, a tepid undrinkable potion as black as ink. When I told him to add some water to my tea, he found nothing better but to mix it with water that he had taken from the top of our bath, and then, wanting to convince himself that my tea was not too hot, he put his dirty finger into my cup.

It is Sunday to-day. After breakfast we were carried in palanquins to St. John’s Cathedral, where English ladies sang prayers in chorus.

Maria Michaelovna made us laugh at tiffin; each time when the boy handed her the menu to point out the extras, she repeated mechanically in Russian “Vot eto,” which means, “Give me that,” and the boy, confounding the sound of vot eto with potato, served her with each course a perpetual supply of potatoes, even with ice cream.

At four o’clock in the afternoon we attended the evening service at the cathedral. This time the chorus consisted of Chinamen. A young Mexican padre mounted a pulpit and began preaching a long sermon in Portuguese language. As we did not understand what he said, we returned to the hotel, where we found visiting-cards left for us by General Wilson Black, the Commander of the English troops at Hong-Kong, who had called upon us with his wife and daughter.

The Salasie has arrived this morning, and to-morrow we sail on that ship for Saigon.

January 18th.—We went on board directly after lunch. All the passengers were still on land, except a buxom Russian nurse, who was rocking in her arms a squalling baby. There are nine families of Russian marine officers on board. My husband was invited to dinner, with his suite, at General Wilson Black’s, but I refused the invitation and locked myself up in my cabin until Sergy’s return. In the saloon next to my cabin I heard the officers, who had returned on board by this time, flirting with Melle. Jeanne Mougin, a pretty French girl, full of animation and merriment, with a face all laughter and dimples, with whom I made acquaintance on deck in the evening. Sergy described to me in detail the dinner party at the Wilson Black’s. Everything was done in grand style; the table, set out with silver-plate and crystal, was beautifully decorated with flowers. After dinner Miss Lilie, the General’s daughter, sang English songs, accompanying herself on the guitar.

January 19th.—We weighed anchor at noon. The sea is very rough, and I remained in bed all day, preparing myself for a bad crossing.

January 20th.—It begins to get hot. The double doors of the dining-room are taken off, and the piano is brought out on the deck. The passengers have put on their white clothes for dinner. We are approaching the equator zone, and pass the Strait of Tonkin by moonlight.

January 21st.—The heat is intense. Towards midday we enter the Saigon River.