"Now that is only a small part of Siberia," said my new teacher. "From here at Habarovsk to the Ural Mountains, which separate Siberia from Russia, it takes two months to travel both day and night in a carriage."
"Tell me some other things about Siberia," I begged.
He pointed to a blue spot in the south. "This is Lake Baikal,[17] the largest body of fresh water in Asia, about four hundred miles long and about forty-five miles wide. It is fifteen hundred feet above the level of the sea. It is a place full of mystery. I don't know if any one yet has been able to find how deep it is. On one side are all kinds of caverns and arches. It's pretty but it's mysterious. Now and then the earth in the vicinity trembles and quakes. Irkutsk, the largest and most important city in Siberia, is not very far from it."
After a moment's pause, he went on: "Let me tell you something of Blagovestchensk,[18] my own city. But no; I'd talk too long. Why don't you move there?" turning suddenly to my father.
My father shook his head. "If I move," he said slowly, "I want to try farming."
"Farming offers many inducements," agreed Kuzmin. "I meet many farmers who came here penniless and now have hundreds of acres of land and hundreds of head of cattle and stables filled with grain."[19]
"Were you ever in St. Petersburg?" I asked unexpectedly. At this question a queer change came over Kuzmin's face and he looked down without answering.
Here Mongalov reached for his balalaika, a sort of Russian mandolin, and began to play some gay Russian airs on it.
When we reached home, I asked my father why Kuzmin did not wish to talk about St. Petersburg.
"He is a useful and clever man," my father answered, "but, poor fellow, he belongs to the unfortunates."