Soon after leaving Ekaterin-Nikolskoi we entered the Buryea or Hingan mountains.  This chain extends across the valley of the Amoor at nearly right angles, and the river flows through it in a single narrow defile.  The mountains first reach the river on the northern bank, the Chinese shore continuing low for thirteen miles higher up.  There are no islands, and the river, narrowed to about half a mile, flows with a rapid current.  In some places it runs five miles an hour, and its depth is from fifty to a hundred feet.  The mountains come to the river on either bank, sometimes in precipitous cliffs, but generally in regular slopes.

Their elevation is about a thousand feet, and they are covered to their summits with dense forests of foliferous and coniferous trees.  Occasionally the slopes are rocky or covered with loose debris that does not give clinging room to the trees.  The undergrowth is dense, and everything indicates a good vegetation.

The mountains are of mica-schist, clay-slate, and rocks of similar origin resting upon an axis of granite.  Porphyry has been found in one locality.  According to the geologists there are indications of gold and other precious metals, and I would not be surprised if a thorough exploration led to valuable discoveries.

As the boat struggled against the current in this mountain passage I spent most of the time on deck.  The tortuous course of the river added much to the scenic effect.  Almost every minute the picture changed.  Hill, forest, cliff, and valley assumed different aspects as we wound our sinuous way up the defile.  Here and there were tiny cascades breaking over the steep rocks to the edge of the river, and occasionally a little meadow peeped out from the mountain valleys.  Some features of the scenery reminded me of the Highlands of the Hudson, or the Mississippi above Lake Pepin.  At times we seemed completely enclosed in a lake from which there was no escape save by climbing the hills.  Frequently it was impossible to discover any trace of an opening half a mile in our front.  Had we been ascending an unexplored river I should have half expected to find it issuing like a huge spring from the base of a high mountain.

The Russian villages in these mountains are located in the valleys of streams flowing to the Amoor.  In one bend we found a solitary house newly-erected and waiting its occupants who should, keep the post-station in winter.  We sent a Cossack ashore in a skiff at this point, and he came near falling into the river while descending the steps at the steamer’s side.  While returning from the bank one of the men in the skiff broke an oar and fell overboard, which obliged us to back the steamer nearly half a mile down the river to pick him up.  The unlucky individual was arrayed in the only suit of clothes he possessed, and was hung up to dry in the engine room.

A mile above this landing place we passed two Manjour boats ascending the stream.  These boats were each about twenty feet long, sitting low in the water with the bow more elevated than the stern, and had a mast in the center for carrying a small sail.  In the first boat I counted six men, four pushing with poles, one steering, and the sixth, evidently the proprietor, lying at ease on the baggage.  Where the nature of the ground permits the crew walk along the shore and tow the boat.