It is not only pleasanter but wiser not to have more than one solid meal a day on the journey, and we could not help being amused at the general collapse of a large number of passengers on the third day, evidently the result of imprudence in this matter. In the restaurant book of food (I can call it by no other name) there was a page of “fasting dishes” which was, I fear, neglected. We found that a judiciously stocked luncheon basket, added to the facilities for securing scalded milk, bread, _excellent_ butter, and eggs, made it unnecessary to spend much time in the restaurant car. This was not so important in the International Sleeping Car as in the Russian State Express, for although the dining-car was atrociously hot and crowded, the meals were served promptly, but in the latter we were an hour and a half having a lunch of five courses, so we determined after that experience to order our meal in advance and _à la carte_. By so doing we saved a great deal of time, but we were obliged to have it at an unseasonable hour. That did not matter much, as we altered our hours in accordance with the “Daylight Saving Bill,” and so profited in various ways. In order to have comfortable time for washing, without having other people hammering on the door, it was most convenient to rise at 5 o’clock, and it was equally convenient to go to bed as soon as it was dark, because all Russian trains economise in light. Even a first-class carriage has only a single candle for all illumination, and that is placed in a lantern above the door, so that it only serves to reveal the darkness. Leaving Manchuria we passed into the Trans-Baikal province, at the western side of which lies Lake Baikal, and to our no small surprise and disappointment, winter still reigned supreme. Beautiful forests of birch and pine trees broke the monotony of the plains, and drifts of snow still lingered in the hollows, where sun or wind had failed to chase it. It was, of course, very different from when we crossed it in February, with the thermometer at thirty degrees below zero, but we still found winter clothing necessary, and were bitterly disappointed to see none of the lovely flowers which transform the dreary plains into flower gardens. We had been told that the delphiniums were a dream of beauty, but we saw none, and I imagine the end of May or beginning of June would be a much better time to travel across Siberia, in spite of the fact that the trains are then crowded, and it is necessary to secure seats months beforehand, or trust to getting one that accidentally falls vacant nearer the time.