I had scarcely finished my letter when I had to go in the cutter to the _Ural_. The _Ural_ is one of the steamers bought from the Germans. She is very well finished. In the saloons are paintings, gilt and carved decorations. She is very big. I went below, and the requiem service began. I shall not forget it soon. Here were joined luxury and poverty, elegance and squalor. The church is the former first-class saloon, now the wardroom, turned into a shrine. Eight large fans made a peculiar noise in quick time. A crowd of officers were there, dressed in white. The choir sang almost a gay chant--badly, but in tune; the priest helped them. During the pauses the dull noise of the fans was clearly heard. There were sentries on both sides of the coffin, which rested on a rude table, not covered with anything. It was more like a box than coffin, and had been made roughly out of pine boards, badly painted. The wood showed through the paint in streaks. During the service they sewed the coffin up in white calico. They could not find a whole piece, so added scraps. The wreaths were composed of fresh flowers. A sad spectacle. Apparently the ensign was not killed by the traveller, but by the Temperley itself. After the service the coffin was lowered into the boat by the very Temperley that wrought the accident. A steam cutter towed the boat to the shore, and was followed by a long line of boats, filled with the funeral party. When the coffin was being lowered, they fired a gun, and all ships put their ensigns at half-mast. The crews stood at "attention," and the band played the funeral march. Two bands awaited the procession on shore; they had accompanied the other dead man. This was the sailor (from the same _Ural_) who died from sunstroke. At the cemetery the funeral service was read, the coffins lowered into the graves, and the escort fired three volleys. Simple crosses were erected, and then all dispersed. They left behind two Russians to lie in their graves, far from their fatherland, among strangers, under simple white crosses with a crooked and uneven superscription roughly carved on them. Little did they think that fate would send them death far from Russia in a strange country, in the midst of luxurious though foreign nature! Little did they think that they would lie side by side--that both would be buried in the same hour. Indeed, one cannot escape fate. Another sailor has gone mad in the _Orel_. But enough of this.... _January 1st._--I left the wardroom at four o'clock. Many remained and occupied themselves in drinking. I returned on board the _Suvaroff_ yesterday, in the _Borodino's_ boat. The population of Nosi Be is a mixed one. You may meet negroes, Malays, Jews, Indians, and a few Europeans. Horses are scarce, and you travel in litters borne on the shoulders of men. There are numerous breeds of monkeys, parrots, lizards, crocodiles, etc.