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360 into such a house as that of the Kuznetsófs; to find ourselves surrounded by flowers, books, pictures, and innumerable other evidences of cultured taste; to hear good music; to talk with intelligent men and women who did not tell us harrowing stories of imprisonment and exile—all this the

reader can hardly imagine. We dined with the Kuznetsófs every day that we spent in Krasnoyársk, and met at their table some very attractive and cultivated people. Among the latter I remember particularly Mr. Iván Sávenkof, the director of the Krasnoyársk normal school, who had just returned from an archæological excursion up the Yeniséi, and who showed us some very interesting tracings and water-color copies of the prehistoric sketches and inscriptions that abound on the "pictured rocks" along that river. Mr. Innokénti Kuznetsóf shared Mr. Sávenkof's interest in archæology, and both gentlemen had valuable collections of objects dating from the stone or the bronze age that had been taken from kurgáns or tumuli in various parts of the province.

Thursday evening, after dinner, we all drove up the left bank of the river to an old monastery about six versts from the city, where the people of Krasnoyársk are accustomed to go in summer for picnics. The road, which was a noteworthy triumph of monastic engineering, had been cut out