I soon found a post, and a comparatively good one, on the railway; my duties being to draw up the various orders, advices, and circulars, and to copy them out. But the yearning for a fuller life possessed me here even more than at Kara, partly induced by the more bustling life of the busy little place, partly by the total absence of any congenial society. In Kara I had had comrades with whom I could converse on every kind of topic; but in Stretyensk, though I knew nearly everybody at least by name, there was no single person to whom I could talk about anything beyond the most everyday matters. The principal, and almost the only, subject of conversation was money. The flow of capital into the country on account of the new railway had aroused in the inhabitants an almost incredible greed and a feverish desire of becoming rich. There were numbers of people who recoiled at nothing in the pursuit of this aim—cheating, dishonesty, even downright theft, were all in the order of the day; and the irresponsibility and arbitrariness of officials which prevails throughout Russia, and especially in Siberia, greatly assisted in undermining the morals of the population. Many large fortunes were made in an extraordinarily short time. The only relaxations from this constant working and striving after riches were drinking and card-playing. Not only was there no library in the Stanitsa, but there was not even a school for the children of those who were not Cossacks, _i.e._ a greater part of the inhabitants. When I of necessity entered into the society of the place I felt myself in a world entirely strange to me, and utterly uncongenial. It was hardly possible for any, even intelligent, young man to escape being driven to drinking or gambling in such an atmosphere. It is true that here I had the advantage of more freedom of movement than in Kara, and that I could go further afield. During the two years of my stay in Stretyensk I frequently made long excursions in different directions; and on these expeditions I became more closely acquainted with local conditions, and learned to understand the life of Siberia much better than would be possible from any amount of mere reading up the subject. In the spring of 1899, while travelling, I met with a comrade of my own way of thinking, who had been exiled by “administrative methods.” It was the first time I had met a Social Democrat newly come from Russia, and my delight may be easily imagined. We talked nearly all through the night, and I learned for the first time from him how great had been the expansion of our movement among the working classes during the last ten years, and how quickly the idea of Social Democracy had taken root in Russia. I was especially impressed by his account of its development among the Jewish workers in the western provinces.