I shall have to stay at Tomsk till the rains are over. They say the road to Irkutsk is awful.
TOMSK,
May 20.
It is Trinity Sunday with you, while with us even the willow has not yet come out, and there is still snow on the banks of the Tom. To-morrow I am starting for Irkutsk. I am rested. There is no need for hurry, as steam navigation on Lake Baikal does not begin till the 10th of June; but I shall go all the same.
I am alive and well, my money is safe; I have a slight pain in my right eye. It aches.
... Everyone advises me to go back across America, as they say one may die of boredom in the Volunteer Fleet; it’s all military discipline and red tape regulations, and they don’t often touch at a port.
To fill up my time I have been writing some impressions of my journey and sending them to Novoye Vremya; you will read them soon after the 10th of June. I write a little about everything, chit-chat. I don’t write for glory but from a financial point of view, and in consideration of the money I have had in advance.
Tomsk is a very dull town. To judge from the drunkards whose acquaintance I have made, and from the intellectual people who have come to the hotel to pay their respects to me, the inhabitants are very dull too.