While we were all stretching our necks to catch a glimpse of the steamer, every moment expected to heave in sight, an officer gave us the valuable hint that our tarantass could not be embarked at Pasoilské, there being no boat there capable of conveying it to the steamer. This was unwelcome intelligence to receive at the eleventh hour, but it was confirmed by the post-master who, however, had told us a different story the night before. The "shipping port" was nine versts further south, and thither we had to transport our carriage. It was off the government post-road, and private horses had to be hired at rather an exorbitant rate. But there was no time to lose, and the Russian had us on the hip, an advantage which none know better how to turn to account. The road runs along a narrow sand-spit between the Baikal and the inner lagoons. It is very heavy, and the water has broken in on it in some places. The sand-spit runs out to a point forming a sheltered harbour inside for vessels of light draught. The entrance round the point has a shoal sand-bar, somewhat dangerous, running across it. Several Russian barges, rigged very much like Japanese junks, with one enormous mast placed near the centre of the vessel, and of about 150 tons burthen, lay aground discharging their cargoes on the shore. Several more were lying at anchor in the harbour. These vessels are of the rudest construction, and the most primitive model--very short, enormously high-sided, and of great beam. They have preposterously large rudders like the Chinese and Japanese junks. Their "lines" are so imperfect that no ordinary rudder would steer them. They must be incapable of any nautical movement except running before the wind. They carry large crews, chiefly Bouriats. Their heavy main-sail and rudder necessitates plenty of hands, and when in harbour (where they seem to spend most of their time) the large crew is useful in loading and discharging cargo. When we consider the kind of craft, and the quality of their crews, by which the Baikal has been navigated, it is easy to account for the terrible stories of the storms that frequently spread destruction over the surface of the lake. That the lake, like other lakes similarly shut in by high mountains, is subject to sudden and violent storms, fraught with danger to crazy barks and unskilful navigators, there can be no doubt; but we had occasion to observe that a very gentle zephyr indeed is accounted a storm on the Baikal. It is said that a peculiar phenomenon is sometimes observed in the lake,--a wave, or succession of waves, bubbling up from the bottom in the calmest weather as if moved by submarine influences. But it is not likely that this, or other anomalous convulsions in the waters of the Baikal are of frequent occurrence. But, although such phenomena have no doubt fortified the popular superstitious dread with which the lake is regarded, it is of the wind-storms that the Russian sailors and travellers are so apprehensive.