Flocks and herds abound, but the animal one meets with most frequently is the pig; but the pigs of this region are very different from ours. They are usually black, with long, thin tails, looking rather like boars. Numbers of them are to be seen in every yard, rooting up the ground and giving the Manchu homestead about as untidy and dirty an appearance as is possible to conceive. Of poultry there is no lack either. Geese, ducks, and fowls share the family abode. The entrance to every house is guarded by half-savage dogs, like so many wolves, and certainly not less ferocious. More than once I was nearly devoured by them, and as it is not advisable to fight them I always took care to have my pockets full of biscuits. A Manchu home, in short, has the appearance of a cattle show, or a Noah's ark, and the life lived is unquestionably antediluvian. Speaking generally, the cultural standard of the Manchus is much below the average Chinese level. The people look more barbarous to begin with, their occupations are all of a rough nature, and the old Confucian doctrines have never penetrated to them. They have always led a merely animal rather than an intellectual life, an existence of strife rather than of thought, and to this day the Imperial army consists almost exclusively of Manchu soldiers. Our progress was very slow. For many days we travelled on leisurely, with occasional stoppages long enough to enable me to make excursions into the interior. I tried every means of conveyance--bullock-carts, Mongol ponies, Cossack horses. It was tiring work, but gave me extraordinary opportunities of making myself familiar with the country and its inhabitants. At last I reached Kharbin, a famous town, being the junction where the three railways of Manchuria meet, viz. the Vladivostok, the Port Arthur, and the Siberian lines. [Illustration: KHARBIN "Of all the places I have visited during this long journey, Kharbin seems to me the dreariest" To face page 70] Of all the places I have visited during this long journey, Kharbin seems to me the dreariest, the most desolate. A dull, cold autumn afternoon greeted me on my arrival. The rain fell in torrents; not only did the water pour down from the skies, but it oozed up from the ground as well. The river had overflowed, and all the land was inundated. Half the place stood under water. The railway station looked like a little island in the midst of a marsh. Together with the few passengers for Vladivostok I was carried on men's shoulders into the waiting-room, a mere barn, where we found a mixed crowd of mujiks and Cossacks with their luggage, which consisted of bedding, cooking utensils, packages and bundles of all sorts and sizes, tied together, piled around them.