STARTING OFF FOR A HOLIDAY.
I must confess, however, that the schools of Siberia are a little ahead of what I expected to see when I made a flying trip across the country last year. My journey was from the Pacific coast to Russia, and, in winter, by more than 3000 miles of sledge travel. It extended from Habarofsk, at the junction of the Amoor and Ussuri rivers, northeast of Peking, to the city of Krasnoyarsk, which at that time was the terminus of the railway which the Russian government is rapidly building from Moscow to the Pacific coast. This route led me through the principal cities of Siberia, and I was able to stop in most of them a few days, and thus to see many places and things of interest. Many of these cities are large and handsome towns; and as all lie in the southern part of the country, where the climate and soil are much like those of eastern Canada, they are surrounded by wide farming tracts, lumbering districts, and mines, and have a trade that reaches to great distances. These are old towns, too, for it must not be forgotten that Siberia has been growing civilized during 250 years, or about as long as the United States itself, and they are often populous also, since Irkootsk, where the Governor-General of Western Siberia lives, has about 80,000 people; Tomsk, the university town, has 30,000; Blagovestschensk, the largest city in Eastern Siberia, 40,000; and half a dozen others 10,000 or 12,000 more. They have water-works, electric lights, police and fire departments, theatres, and all the rest that belongs to a wide-awake town; but they are proudest of their schools and the institutions of religion and public charity.
THE RING GAME AND OPEN-AIR GYMNASIUM.
In every city the central school-house, or gymnasium, as it is called, is one of the largest, most costly buildings, and often is surrounded by fine grounds, while within it are the best appliances that can be had. In many of them, for example, each pupil has a little desk to himself; and these are adjustable, and fitted to him, so that the short-legged youngster may have a low seat, while his next neighbor, who may be tall and thin, enjoys a higher one. This is more than most American schools can show. The walls are covered with blackboards, maps, and pictures, and always, at least in the principal rooms, there is a portrait of the Emperor, whom the Russian people often speak of as their Little Father, meaning he is next in their love and respect to the Great Father in heaven. You will notice these and some other things in the illustrations of one of the school-rooms in Krasnoyarsk, which, as well as the other pictures, has been made from a photograph taken by one of the teachers there.
Several other things are noticeable in that scene. You will observe that the right-hand corner is cut off, as if by a chimney; but this is the stove—the chimney being above it. The Russian stove is a small chamber built up of bricks, in the base of which is a fire-box, whose door in this case is hidden by the blackboard. A rousing wood fire is built in the early morning, then the doors are closed, and the dampers so regulated that the heat from the mass of coals permeates the brick walls, which diffuse a genial warmth throughout the room for the rest of the day.
HOT TEA FROM THE SAMOVAR AT A PICNIC.
In the left-hand corner is hung the ikon, with its ever-burning lamp, found in every Russian house or public room, great or small, and which usually consists of one or more framed tablets that contain carvings or paintings of the head of Christ, with perhaps other subjects relating to the Saviour. It is the sacred symbol of religion in the Russian (or Greek) Church, like the crucifix in the Roman Church. Their religious duties are never forgotten by the Siberians, and form an important part of the school life. Each school has a chapel—often richly decorated; and to it is attached a chaplain or priest, who holds religious services there every morning and gives instruction in sacred subjects. One of these priests is sitting at the back of this room, as you may see by his robe and his long hair, parted in the middle, and his golden cross; these are the signs of his office. He has a kindly face, and is, no doubt, the friend of every boy in the establishment.
Next to him is seated the principal—a hearty-looking man, dressed, as usual, in military uniform—and other visitors, for this is evidently an examination day. A teacher stands at the blackboard, and perhaps has asked a question which the lad before him has been unable to answer, for he has turned to another boy, who has risen at his desk as though to give the needed reply. One need not go outside our Yankee school-rooms to make a similar picture any day; but he would never see in this country the abacus, which is used all over Siberia, China, and Japan by pupils and teachers in their arithmetic lessons, and by merchants in their stores, instead of the pencil and paper with which we do sums too large for head-work. It is a very ancient device, and the boys who went to school in Rome before Cæsar wrote that all Gaul was divided into three parts, or Virgil declared "Arma virumque cano," learned their multiplication table by the help of its sliding balls.