As we approach Irkutsk, the country becomes more picturesque, and hills that are almost mountains roll about on the horizon, and the roads and crossings take on a look of trimness. Every grade-crossing and almost every switch is guarded by a man or by a woman, who with a flag stands at salute while the train passes, and then steps out between the rails and with extended flag poses as rigid as a statue, looking after us until the train is nearly out of sight. I cannot understand why photographs should make the city look so trim when in reality it is so soiled and dingy and unkempt.
Space is the cheapest thing in northern Asia.
The Russians have been prodigal of space in laying out their cities. A great city should have a museum. The government has seen to it that Irkutsk does not lack one. All this is most impressive, from the cathedral to the imported finery. Yet even the abominable hotel in which we lodged and tried to eat looks almost attractive in an illustration.