As the boat struggled against the current in this mountain passage I spent most of the time on deck. The tortuous course of the river added much to the scenic effect. Almost every minute the picture changed. Hill, forest, cliff, and valley assumed different aspects as we wound our sinuous way up the defile. Here and there were tiny cascades breaking over the steep rocks to the edge of the river, and occasionally a little meadow peeped out from the mountain valleys. Some features of the scenery reminded me of the Highlands of the Hudson, or the Mississippi above Lake Pepin. At times we seemed completely enclosed in a lake from which there was no escape save by climbing the hills. Frequently it was impossible to discover any trace of an opening half a mile in our front. Had we been ascending an unexplored river I should have half expected to find it issuing like a huge spring from the base of a high mountain.
The Russian villages in these mountains are located in the valleys of streams flowing to the Amoor. In one bend we found a solitary house newly-erected and waiting its occupants who should, keep the post-station in winter. We sent a Cossack ashore in a skiff at this point, and he came near falling into the river while descending the steps at the steamer’s side. While returning from the bank one of the men in the skiff broke an oar and fell overboard, which obliged us to back the steamer nearly half a mile down the river to pick him up. The unlucky individual was arrayed in the only suit of clothes he possessed, and was hung up to dry in the engine room.
A mile above this landing place we passed two Manjour boats ascending the stream. These boats were each about twenty feet long, sitting low in the water with the bow more elevated than the stern, and had a mast in the center for carrying a small sail. In the first boat I counted six men, four pushing with poles, one steering, and the sixth, evidently the proprietor, lying at ease on the baggage. Where the nature of the ground permits the crew walk along the shore and tow the boat.
The men were in cotton garments and conical hats, and their queues of hair hung like ships pennants in a dead calm, or the tails of a group of scared dogs. They seemed to enjoy themselves, and were laughing merrily as we went past them. They waved their hands up the stream as if urging us to go ahead and say they were coming. The one reclining was a venerable personage, with a thin beard fringing a sedate visage, into which he drew long whiffs and comfort from a Chinese pipe.
These boats were doubtless from Kirin or San-Sin, on their way to Igoon. The voyage must be a tedious one to any but a Mongol, much like the navigation of the Mississippi before the days of steam-boats. In spite of the great advantages to commerce, the Manjours resisted to the last the introduction of steam on the Amoor just as they now oppose it on the Songaree.
MANJOUR BOAT.
In the language of the natives along its banks the Amoor has several names. The Chinese formerly called the Songaree ‘Ku-tong,’ and considered the lower Amoor a part of that stream. Above the Songaree the Amoor was called ‘Sakhalin-Oula,’ (black water,) by the Manjours and Chinese. The Goldees named it ‘Mongo,’ and the Gilyaks called it ‘Mamoo.’ The name Amoor was given by the Russians, and is considered a corruption of the Gilyak word. When Mr. Collins descended, in 1857, the natives near Igoon did not or would not understand him when he spoke of the Amoor. They called the river ‘Sakhalin,’ a name which the Russians gave to the long island at the mouth of the Amoor. As the Mongolian maps do not reach the outside world I presume the Russian names are most likely to endure with geographers. The upper part of the defile of the Buryea Mountains is wider and has more meadows than the lower portion. On one of these meadows, where there is a considerable extent of arable land, we found the village of Raddevski, named in honor of the naturalist Raddy, who explored this region. The resources here were excellent, if I may judge by the quantity and quality of edibles offered to our steward. The people of both sexes flocked to the landing with vegetables, bread, chickens, butter, and other good things in much larger quantity than we desired. There was a liberal supply of pigs and chickens, with many wild geese and ducks. We bought a pig and kept him on board three or four days. He squealed without cessation, until our captain considered him a bore, and ordered him killed and roasted.
Pigs were generally carried in bags or in the arms of their owners. One day a woman brought a thirty pound pig suspended over her shoulder. The noise and kicking of the brute did not disturb her, and she held him as unconcernedly as if he were an infant. Finding no market for her property, she turned it loose and allowed it to take its own way home. Milk was almost invariably brought in bottles, and eggs in boxes or baskets. Eggs were sold by the dizaine (ten,) and not as with us by the dozen.
At Raddevski several kinds of berries were offered us, but only the blackberry and whortleberry were familiar to my eyes. One berry, of which I vainly tried to catch the Russian name, was of oblong shape, three-fourths an inch in length, and had the taste of a sweet grape. It was said to grow on a climbing vine. Cedar nuts were offered in large quantities, but I did not purchase.