I am obliged at present to discontinue my practice of making notes every day. My journey to Petersburg was so rapid, that is, from 10 August to 22 September, that it was impossible to observe the same accuracy; for this reason also the reader will pardon the brevity of my observations. The country through which I passed has beside been described by so many accurate and intelligent pens, and these travellers have given so much attraction and interest to their recitals, that I should only be accused of presumption, or plagiarism, if I attempted to enlarge on a subject, which they profoundly studied, while I had scarcely time to skim the surface. Many of these performances[112] are recent, and the curiosity of the reader may be amply satisfied by them. I shall only speak of what relates to myself. I first passed through a small canton inhabited by Bratskis. Are not these the same people described by other French writers, under the appellation of _Burates_? Beyond Oudinsk I came to Kransnoyark, where I stopped twenty-four hours to repair the axle-trees of my carriage. This town derives its name from the red and steep bank of the Yenisei, which runs under its wall. I afterwards entered the desert, called _Barabinskoi-step_. The post service is performed by exiles of every description, whose settlements are at the distance of twenty-five, and sometimes fifty wersts from one another. These unfortunate beings live in the same manner as those who conducted me from Yakoutsk to Peledoui; they are neither more serviceable nor less ferocious, and their indolence is still more mortifying. Accustomed to the fertile and rich country about Irkoutsk, cultivated by the laborious Starogili, the eye cannot survey, without pain, this barren waste. We are disposed to ascribe this melancholy contrast to the sloth of the perverse inhabitants, though it is acknowledged that the soil yields them no return. One might say, that in conformity with the vindictive hand that pursues them, Nature acts towards them as a step-mother; the earth, to which justice has banished them, seems to feel a reluctance in bearing them; its withered bosom refuses all success to their culture.