Within a mile of Kansk the road was bare of snow, and as we had but two horses to our sleigh I proposed walking into town.  We passed a long train of sleds on their way to market with loads of wood and hay.  Tea was ready for us when we arrived at the station, and we were equally ready for it.  After my fifth cup I walked through the public square as it was market day, and the people were in the midst of traffic.  Fish, meat, hay, wood, and a great quantity of miscellaneous articles were offered for sale.  In general terms the market was a sort of pocket edition of the one at Irkutsk.  I practiced my knowledge of Russian in purchasing a quantity of rope to use in case of accidents.  Foreigners were not often seen there if I may judge of the curiosity with which I was regarded.

Kansk is a town of about three thousand inhabitants, and stands on the Kan, a tributary of the Yenesei.  We were told there was little snow to the first station, and were advised to take five horses to each sleigh.  We found the road a combination of thin snow and bare ground, the latter predominating.  We proceeded very well, the yemshicks maintaining sublime indifference to the character of the track.  They plied their whips vigorously in the probable expectation of drink-money.  The one on my sleigh regaled us with an account of the perfectly awful condition of the road to Krasnoyarsk.

About sunset we changed horses, thirty versts from Kansk, and found no cheering prospect ahead.  We drowned our sorrows in the flowing tea-cup, and fortified ourselves with a large amount of heat.  Tea was the sovereign remedy for all our ills, and we used it most liberally.  We set out with misgivings and promised liberal rewards to the yemshicks, if they took us well and safely.  The road was undeniably bad, with here and there a redeeming streak of goodness.  Notwithstanding the jolts I slept pretty well during the night.  In the morning we took tea fifty versts from Krasnoyarsk, and learned there was absolutely no snow for the last thirty versts before reaching the city.  There was fortunately a good snow road to the intervening village where we must change to wheels.  Curiously enough the snow extended up to the very door of the last station, and utterly disappeared three feet beyond.  Looking one way we saw bare earth, while in the other direction there was a good road for sleighing.

At this point we arranged our programme over the inevitable cakes and tea.  The ladies were to leave their vashok until their return to Irkutsk ten or twelve days later.  The remaining sleighs were unladen and mounted upon wheels.  We piled our baggage into telyagas with the exception of a few articles that remained in the sleighs.  The ladies with their maid took one wagon, while Paul and myself rode in another, the man servant conveying the sleighs.  The whole arrangement was promptly effected; the villagers scented a job on our arrival, and were ready for proposals.  My sleigh was lifted and fastened into a wagon about as quickly as a hackman would arrange a trunk. Place aux dames toujours. We sent away the ladies half an hour in advance of the rest of the party.