In the morning we put on our best clothes, and visited the gubernatorial mansion.  The governor was at St. Petersburg, and we were received by the Vice-Governor, an amiable gentleman of about fifty years, who reminded me of General S.R.  Curtis.  Before our interview we waited ten or fifteen minutes at one end of a large hall.  The Vice-Governor was at the other end listening to a woman whose streaming eyes and choked utterance showed that her story was one of grief.  The kind hearted man appeared endeavoring to soothe her.  I could not help hearing the conversation though ignorant of its purport, and, as the scene closed, I thought I had not known before the extent of pathos in the Russian language.

We had a pleasant interview with the vice-governor who gave us passports to Barnaool, on learning that we wished to visit that place.  Among those who called during our stay was the golovah of Tomsk, a man whose physical proportions resembled those of the renowned Wouter Van Twiller, as described by Washington Irving.  Every golovah I met in Siberia was of aldermanic proportions, and I wondered whether physical developments had any influence in selections for this office.  Just before leaving the governor’s residence, we were introduced to Mr. Naschinsky, of Barnaool, to whom I had a letter of introduction from his cousin, Paul Anossoff.  As he was to start for home that evening, we arranged to accompany him.  Our visit ended, we drove through the principal streets, and saw the chief features of the town.

Tomsk takes its name from the river Tom, on whose banks it is built.  It stands on the edge of the great Baraba steppe, and has about twenty thousand inhabitants of the usual varied character of a Russian population.  I saw many fine houses, and was told that in society and wealth the city was little inferior to Irkutsk.  Here, as at other places, large fortunes have been made in gold mining.  Several heavy capitalists were mentioned as owners of concessions in the mining districts.  Many of their laborers passed the winter at Tomsk in the delights of urban life.  The city is of considerable importance as it controls much of the commerce of Siberia.  The site is picturesque, being partly on the low ground next the river, and partly on the hills above it.  In contemplating the location, I was reminded of Quebec.  I found much activity in the streets and market places, and good assortments of merchandise in the shops.

Near our hotel, over a wide ravine, was a bridge, constantly traversed by vehicles and pedestrians, and lighted at night by a double row of lamps.  Some long buildings near the river, and just outside the principal market had a likeness to American railway stations, and the quantities of goods piled on their verandas aided the illusion.  About noon the market-place was densely crowded, and there appeared a brisk traffic in progress.  There was a liberal array of articles to eat, wear, or use, with a very fair quantity for which no use could be imagined.