The neighbourhood of Ekaterinburg, which has a population of twenty-five thousand inhabitants, is rich in minerals and precious stones. Among the former iron preponderates; and there are many Englishmen settled here working it. It seemed strange to hear one’s own tongue again spoken in the streets and hotels, and to read in many cases the names of the latter and of shopkeepers written in French over their doors. The jewellers were almost as wearying and importunate as the Cinghalese sapphire-sellers at Colombo. We had scarcely been in our room at the hotel half an hour before we were assailed by a crowd of clamouring dealers, who would not be denied; but insisted, though we were performing our ablutions in a state of nudity, in laying out their wares on the floor, till the drugget was covered with a glittering mass of gems, among which were beryls, topaz, aquamarines, and chrysolites. Amongst them were also one or two Alexandrites, the recently discovered stone which shows two colours, crimson and green, the former by night, and the latter by day. It derives its name from the Emperor Alexander, and has also been found in Ceylon of late years. The stones were of moderate prices, but our funds were too low to permit of our making any investments, perhaps luckily for ourselves, for here, as in Colombo, there are many worthless imitations.
We left Ekaterinburg on the afternoon of the 30th of September for Perm, whence we were to take the steamer down the Kama and Volga rivers to Nijni Novgorod. Though the railway between the two cities is worked by a different company to that we had come by from Tiumen, we found the comfort in every respect as great as on the other line. Each car had its lavatory, heating apparatus, and comfortable sleeping fauteuils. At every third or fourth station we found an excellent buffet, open throughout the night. At one of them, Nijni Tagilsk, where we stopped to dine, the dining-room of the station would not have disgraced a first-class hotel in Paris or London. Down the centre of the brilliantly lighted room ran a long table, covered with snowy table-cloth, and glittering with silver plate and glass. The waiters were all in evening dress, with spotless shirt fronts and white ties, and as they served one with an excellent dinner of four courses and dessert, it was difficult indeed to realize that one was yet but a few miles out of Asia. It was the same everywhere. There are twenty odd stations between Ekaterinburg and Perm, at every one of which was laid out, no matter what hour of the day or night, a cold, if not hot, meal, or towards the chilly morning hours steaming bowls of café-au-lait or tea, with dainty rolls and tiny glasses of vodka and cognac to cheer the inner man. We passed Neviansk towards sunset, a picturesque village embowered in pine forest, and surrounded by three large lakes, about two hours out of Ekaterinburg. Neviansk is used as a summer resort and watering-place by the inhabitants of the city, when, during June and July the heat and dust become unbearable.
On the 1st of October, towards 6 a.m., we woke and looked out of the frost-dimmed windows, to find ourselves in a new world. Wooden rails and enclosures had given way to thick-set hedges and small fields, plank huts to stone houses with corrugated iron roofs, a mineral, in this district, as cheap as pine or fir. The pine and birch forests had entirely disappeared. We were now passing large plains of cultivated land, neat farm buildings surrounded by gardens and orchards, and occasionally a village or town, approached by a poplar-lined road, winding through the deserted fields. The landscape between Nijni Tagilsk and Perm might well be mistaken for that lying between Boulogne and Amiens on the Chemin de Fer du Nord.
The Oural trains are as punctual as they are comfortable, and we reached Perm to the minute at the appointed time, 9 a.m. The scene at the station was all confusion. The boat was only advertised to leave at noon, and the scurry and excitement to get on board seemed very unnecessary. We here had to encounter an unexpected difficulty. Men were rushing about the platform with pink and yellow handbills, each advertising a steamer bound for Nijni Novgorod, both boats to leave at the same hour——noon. The question was which to go by, for both, outwardly, looked exactly the same, though flying different company flags. There was no one to help us, and my small stock of Russian was absolutely useless in the uproar. In vain I button-holed policemen, railway porters, soldiers——in vain gesticulated and shouted, “Loutchshi parohode?” (Best boat?) It was no use, so we determined to do as we had always done in the event of uncertainty, toss up. The steamer Perm was the one our coin settled on, and, fortunately for us, the right one. The other boat, the Nijni Novgorod, was a wretched tub, and arrived at its destination only five days after us, when we were already comfortably settled in Moscow.
Perm is not a prepossessing city, though the day we saw it was perhaps not a favourable one. A dense fog shrouded everything in damp white mist, through which loomed the dome of the cathedral, and great, gaunt warehouses lining the banks of the river. A steady drizzle, which had commenced on our arrival and continued ever since with steady persistency, extinguished all our hopes of visiting the town, and we were glad to take refuge out of the cold and fog in the brilliantly lighted though somewhat stuffy saloon of the steamer, where several of the passengers (of which there were about a hundred) had already settled down to a good square meal of stchi (cabbage soup), sterlet, and beefsteak. A somewhat substantial menu for nine in the morning!
It was a relief to find that, by paying a few roubles extra, we could secure a cabin to ourselves, and one considerably roomier than those generally met with in ocean-going ships. At mid-day, punctual to the minute, the bell was rung, the whistle sounded, and in less than ten minutes the city of Perm was lost in a shroud of mist, and we were steadily ploughing our way through the broad yellow stream to the last stage of our homeward journey, Nijni Novgorod.
[16]. A kind of oatmeal cake.
[17]. Eggs, tea, milk.
[18]. It is curious to note that, in 1761, the Abbé d’Autroche found the population of Tobolsk to be 15,000 souls; in 1861, exactly one hundred years later, it was only 16,000.