I found at Irkutsk a great precision respecting appointments.  When dinners were to come off at a fixed hour all the guests assembled from three to ten minutes before the time specified.  I never knew any one to come late, and all were equally careful not to come early.  No one could be more punctual than General Korsackoff, and his example was no doubt carefully watched and followed.  It is a rule throughout official circles in Russia, if I am correctly informed, that tardiness implies disrespect.  Americans might take a few lessons of the Russians on the subject of punctuality.

[Illustration:  EMPEROR OF RUSSIA.]

The table was liberally decorated with flowers and plants, and the whole surroundings were calculated to make one forget that he was in cold and desolate Siberia.  A band of music was stationed in the adjoining parlor, and furnished us with Russian and American airs.  At the first toast General Korsackoff made a speech in Russian, recounting the amity existing between the two nations and the visit of our special embassy to congratulate the Emperor on his escape from assassination.  He thought the Siberians felt no less grateful at this mark of sympathy than did the people of European Russia, and closed by proposing, “The President, Congress, and People of the United States.”  The toast was received with enthusiasm, the band playing Yankee Doodle as an accompaniment to the cheering.

The speech was translated to me by Captain Linden, the private Secretary of the Governor General, who spoke French and English fluently.  Etiquette required me to follow with a toast to the emperor in my little speech.  I spoke slowly to facilitate the hearing of those who understood English.  The Captain then translated it into Russian.

General Korsackoff spoke about four minutes, and I think my response was of the same length.  Both speeches were considered quite elaborate by the Siberians, and one officer declared it was the longest dinner-table address the general ever made.  Two days later at another dinner I asked a friend to translate my remarks when I came to speak.  He asked how long I proposed talking.

“About three minutes,” was my reply.

“Oh,” said he, “you had better make it one or two minutes.  You made a long speech at the Governor General’s, and when you dine with a person of less importance he will not expect you to speak as much.”

I had not taken this view of the matter, as the American custom tends to brevity on the ascending rather than on the descending scale.

Ten years earlier Major Collins dined with General Mouravieff in the same hall where I was entertained.  After dinner I heard a story at the expense of my enterprising predecessor.  It is well known that the Major is quite a speech maker at home, and when he is awakened on a favorite subject he has no lack either of ideas or words.

On the occasion just mentioned, General Mouravieff gave the toast, “Russia and America,” Major Collins rose to reply and after speaking six or eight minutes came to a pause.  Captain Martinoff, who understood English, was seated near the Major.  As the latter stopped, General Mouravieff turned to the Captain and asked: