KOREAN SETTLERS IN SIBERIA
The chief object of my visit to Russian Manchuria was to settle for
myself by personal investigation the vexed question of the condition of
those Koreans who have found shelter under the Russian flag, a number
estimated in Seoul at 20,000. It was there persistently said that
Russia was banishing them in large numbers, and that several thousands
of them had already recrossed the Tu-men, and were in such poverty that
the King of Korea had sent agents to the north who were to settle them
on lands in Ham-gyöng Do.
But in Wladivostok the servant-interpreter difficulty was absolutely
insurmountable. No efforts on the part of my friends could obtain
what did not exist, and I was on the verge of giving up what proved a
very interesting journey, when the Director of the Siberian Telegraph
Lines very kindly liberated the senior official in his department, who
had not had a holiday for many years, to go with me. Mr. Heidemann, a
German from the Baltic provinces, spoke German, Russian, and English
with nearly equal ease, and as a Russian official was able to make
things smoother than they might otherwise have been in a very rough
part of Primorsk. He was tall, good-looking, and verging on middle
age, very gentlemanly, never failed in any courtesy, understood how to
manage _moujiks_, and was a capable and willing interpreter; but he was
official, reticent, and uninterested, and gave me the impression of
being frozen into his uniform!
Fortified as to my project by the cordial approval of the Governor,
the courtesy of the Telegraph Department, and the singular splendor of
the weather, I left Wladivostok by a red sunrise in a small steamer,
which accomplished the 60 miles to Possiet Bay in seven hours, landing
us in a deep inlet of clear water and white sand, soon to be closed by
ice, at the foot of low and absolutely barren hills fringing off into
sandy knolls, where Koreans with their ox-carts awaited the steamer. A
well spread tea-table at the house of the Russian postmaster was very
welcome. Such a strong-looking family I had seldom seen, but afterwards
I found that size and strength are characteristic of the Russian
settlers in Primorsk.
Possiet Bay is a large military station of fine barracks and
storehouses. It scarcely seemed to possess a civil population, but
there are Korean settlements at no great distance, from which much of
the beef supply of Wladivostok is derived. We met a number of strong,
thriving-looking Koreans driving 60 fine fat cattle down to the steamer.
The post wagon, in which we were cramped up among and under the
mail-bags, took us at a two hours’ gallop along frozen inlets of the
sea and across frozen rivers, over grassy, hilly country, scarcely
enlivened by Korean farms in the valleys, to Nowo Kiewsk, which
we reached after nightfall, and were hospitably received by the
representative of Messrs. Kuntz and Albers, whose large brick and stone
establishment is the prominent object in the settlement.
Nowo Kiewsk is a great military post, to which 1,000 civilians, chiefly
Koreans and Chinese, have been attracted by the prospect of gain.
Koreans indeed form the bulk of this population, and do all the hauling
of goods and fuel with their ox-teams. The centre of the town is a
great dusty slope intersected by dusty and glaring roads, which resound
at intervals from early morning till sunset with the steady tramp of
brown-ulstered battalions. Between Possiet Bay and Nowo Kiewsk there
were 10,000 infantry and artillery, and at the latter post 8 pieces of
field artillery and 24 two-wheeled ammunition wagons. Barracks for
10,000 more men were in course of rapid construction. Long wooden sheds
shelter the artillery ponies, and villages of low mud-houses of two
rooms each, with windows consisting of a single small pane of glass,
the families of soldiers. There are great drill and parade grounds and
an imposing Greek church of the usual pattern.
With its great open spaces and wide streets, Nowo Kiewsk looks laid out
for futurity, straggling along a treeless and bushless hill slope for
2 miles. In addition to Kuntz and Albers, with their polyglot staff of
clerks, among whom a young Korean in European dress was conspicuous for
his gentlemanliness and alacrity, there is another German house, and
there are forty small shops, chiefly kept by Chinese, at all of which
_schnaps_ and _vodka_ are sold.
I was detained there for three days while arrangements for my southern
journey were being made, and during that time the Chief of Police, who
spoke French, took me to several Korean villages. So far as I saw and
heard, the whole agricultural population of the neighborhood is Korean,
and is in a very prosperous condition. There, and down to the Korean
frontier, most of these settlers are doing well, and some of them are
growing rich as contractors for the supply of meat and grain to the
Russian forces. At this they have beaten their Chinese neighbors, and
they actually go into Chinese Manchuria, buy up lean cattle, and fatten
them for beef. To those who have only seen the Koreans in Korea, such a
statement will be hardly credible. Yet it does not stand alone, for I
have it on the best authority that the Korean settlers near Khabaroffka
have competed so successfully with the Chinese in market gardening that
the supplying that city with vegetables is now entirely in their hands!
The Russian _tarantass_ is one of the most uncouth of civilized
vehicles--all that can be said of it is that it suits the roads, which
in that region are execrable. On two sets of stout wheels and axles,
attached to each other by long solid timbers, a long shallow box is
secured, with one, two, or even three boards, cushioned or not, “roped”
across it for seats. It may be drawn by either two or three horses
abreast, one in the shafts and one or two outside, each with the most
slender attachment to the vehicle, and his head held down and inwards
by a tight strap. This outer animal is trained to a showy gallop, which
never slackens even though the shaft horse may keep up a decorous trot.
The _tarantass_ has no springs, and, going at a gallop, bumps and
bounces over all obstacles, holes, hillocks, ruts and streams being
alike to it.
The _tarantass_ of the Chief of Police made nothing of the obstacles on
the road to Yantchihe, where we were to hear of a Korean interpreter.
The level country, narrowing into a valley bordered by fine mountains,
is of deep, rich black soil, and grows almost all cereals and roots.
All the crops were gathered in and the land was neatly ploughed. Korean
hamlets with houses of a very superior class to those in Korea were
sprinkled over the country. At one of the largest villages, where 140
families were settled on 750 acres of rich land, we called at several
of the peasant farmers’ houses, and were made very welcome, even
the women coming out to welcome the official with an air of decided
pleasure. The farmers had changed the timid, suspicious, or cringing
manner which is characteristic of them to a great extent at home, for
an air of frankness and manly independence which was most pleasing.
The Chief of Police was a welcome visitor. The Koreans had nothing
to fear, unless his quick scent discerned an insanitary odor or his
eye an unwarrantable garbage heap! The farmyards were clean and well
swept, and the domestic animals were lodged in neat sheds. The houses,
of strictly Korean architecture, were large, with five or six rooms,
carefully thatched, and very neat within, abounding in such comforts
and plenishings as would only be dreamed of by mandarins at home. It
is insisted on, however, that, instead of the flues which heat the
floors vomiting forth their smoke through many blackened apertures in
the walls, they shall unite in sending it heavenwards through a hollow
tree trunk placed at a short distance from the house. This, and cleanly
surroundings in the interests of sanitation, are the only restrictions
on their Korean habits. The clothing and dwellings are the same as in
Korea, and the “topknot” flourishes.
A little farther on there is the large village of Yantchihe, with
a neat schoolhouse, in which Russian and Korean pupils sit side by
side at their lessons, a Greek church, singularly rich in internal
decorations, and a priest’s house adjoining. This is a very prosperous
village. In the neat police station a Korean sergeant wrote down my
requirements and sent off a smart Korean policeman in search of an
interpreter. Four hundred Koreans in this neighborhood have conformed
to the Greek Church and have received baptism. On asking the priest,
who was more picturesque than cultivated, and whose large young family
seemed oppressively large for the house, what sort of Christians they
made, he replied suggestively that they had “a great deal to learn,”
and that there would be “more hope for the next generation.”
I am not clear in my own mind as to the cause of the success which has
attended “missionary effort” at Yantchihe and elsewhere. The statements
I received on the subject differed widely, and in most cases were made
hesitatingly, as if my informants were not sure of their ground. My
impression is that while Russia is tolerant of devil-worship, or any
other worship which is not subversive of the externals of morality,
“conformity” is required to obtain for the Korean alien those blessings
which belong to naturalization as a Russian subject.
Preparations being completed for travelling to the Korean frontier,
and into Korea as far as Kyöng-heung, a town which a Trade Convention
in 1888 opened to the residence of Russian subjects in the hope
of creating a market there after the style of Kiachta, I had an
interview with Mr. Matunin, the Frontier Commissioner, who gave me
a very unpleasant account of insecurity on the frontier owing to the
lawlessness of the Chinese troops, and an introduction to the Governor
of Kyöng-heung.
A large _tarantass_ with three ponies and a driver, a Korean on another
pony, and the Korean headman of a neighboring village, who spoke
Russian well, and our saddles were our modest outfit. The details of
the two days’ journey to the Tu-men are too monotonous for infliction
on the reader. The road was infamous, and at times disappeared
altogether on a hillside or in a swamp, and swamps are frequent for
the first 40 _versts_. The _tarantass_, always attempting a gallop,
bounced, bumped, and thumped, till breathing became a series of gasps.
Occasionally we stuck fast in swampy streams where the ice was broken,
being extricated by a tremendous, united, and apparently trained, jump
on the part of the ponies, which compelled a strong grip of the vehicle
with hands and feet, and would have dislocated any other. Mr. Heidemann
smoked cigarettes unceasingly, and made no remarks.
We crossed the head of Possiet Bay and other inlets at a gallop on
thin ice, forded several streams in the aforesaid fashion, and passed
through several Korean coast villages given up to the making of salt by
a rude process, the finished product being carted away to Hun-chun in
China in baskets of finely woven reeds. These Chinese carts are drawn
by seven mules each, constantly driven at a gallop.
After 30 _versts_ the country became very hilly, with rugged mountains
in the distance, all without a tree or bush, and covered with coarse
and fine grasses mixed up with myriads of withered flower stalks of
_Compositæ_ and _Umbelliferæ_, and here and there a lonely, belated
purple aster shivered in the strong keen wind, which made an atmosphere
at zero somewhat hard to face. The valleys are flat and broad, and
their rich black soil, the product of ages of decaying vegetation, is
absolutely stoneless. Almost all crops can be raised upon it. Besides
being a rich agricultural country, the region is well suited for cattle
breeding. There were large herds on the hills, and haystacks thickly
scattered over the landscape indicated abundance of winter keep. The
potato, which flourishes and is free from the disease, is largely
cultivated, and is now with the Koreans an article of ordinary diet.
The whole of this fine country is settled by Koreans, for the few
hamlets of wretched, tumble-down Chinese houses are of no account.
Whether as squatters or purchasers, they are making the best of the
land. The number of their domestic animals enables them to fertilize
it abundantly; they plough deep, and rotate their crops, and get a
splendid yield from their lands. We halted at Saretchje, a village
of 120 families, admirably housed, and with all material comforts
abounding about them. Out of its 600 inhabitants, 450 have “conformed.”
The Koreans, having no religion, are apparently not unwilling to
secure the possible advantages of conversion, and though none of the
Greek priests who conversed with me were enthusiastic about their
“consistency,” it is at least more satisfactory to see an “_Ecce Homo_”
on the wall than the family dæmon.
At distances of 3 and 4 miles there are Korean villages, of which
prosperity in greater or less degree is a characteristic. The houses
are large and well-built, and the farmyards are well stocked with
domestic animals, the people and children are well clothed, and the
village lands carefully cultivated.
A long ascent, during which the road, which for some time had been
intermittent, gradually disappeared, leads to the summit of a high
hill, from which the mountainous frontiers of Russia, China, and Korea
are seen to converge. After losing our way and our time, and crossing
several ranges of hills without a road, just as the winter sun was
setting in a flood of red gold, glorifying the mountains on the Chinese
frontier, a turn round a bluff revealed what is geographically and
politically a striking view.
The whole of the Russo-Korean frontier, 11 miles in length, and a
broad river full of sandbanks, passing through a desert of sandhills
to the steely blue ocean, lay crimson in the sunset. On a steep bluff
above the river a tall granite slab marks the spot where the Russian
and Chinese frontiers meet. Across the Tu-men, the barren mountains of
Korea loomed purple through a haze of gold. Three empires are seen at a
glance. A small and poor Korean village is situated in a valley below.
Close to the Boundary Stone, on the high steep bluff above the Tu-men,
there is a large mud hut from which most of the whitewash had scaled
off, with thatch held on by straw ropes, weighted with stones.
It was a very lonely scene. A Korean told us that it was absolutely
impossible for us to sleep at the village. A Cossack came out of the
hut, took a long look at us, and returned. Then a forlorn-looking
corporal appeared, who also took a long look, and having hospitable
instincts, came up and told us that the village was impossible except
for the drivers and horses, but that he could put us up roughly in the
hut, which consisted of one fair sized room, another very small one,
and a lean-to.
The latest English papers had stated that “Russia has lately massed
5,000 men on the Korean frontier, and 4,000 at Hun-chun.” It is not
desirable to make any inquiries about the positions and numbers of
Russian troops, and I had prudently abstained from asking questions,
and had looked forward with interest to seeing a great display of
military force. This hut is the military post of Krasnoye Celo, and
the “army” of Russia “massed on her Korean frontier” consisted of 15
men and a corporal, the officer being required to endure the isolation
of the position for six months, and the privates for one. The roars of
laughter which greeted the English statement were not complimentary to
newspaper accuracy.
The corporal’s small room was of no particular shape, and was furnished
with only a deal chair and small table, and a big earthen jar of
water, but it was well-warmed, and had an iron camp-bed in a recess
with a wire-wove mattress, much broken and “sagging,” the sharp points
of the broken wires sticking up in several places through the one rug
with which I attempted to mollify their asperities. This recess, which
just contained the bed, was curtained off for me, and the corporal,
Mr. Heidemann, and three Korean headmen lay closely packed on the
floor. The corporal, glad to have people to talk with, talked more than
half the night, and began again before daybreak. We supped on barrack
fare--black bread, barley brose, and tea, with the addition of a little
_kwass_, a very slightly fermented drink, made from black bread,
raisins, sugar, and a little _vodka_, _schnaps_ and _vodka_ containing
40 per cent. of alcohol. At 9 P.M. I was surprised and delighted with
the noble strains of a Greek Litany, chanted in well-balanced parts
from the barrack-room, the evening worship of the Cossacks.
My last sunset view of the Tu-men was of a sheet of ice. The headmen of
the Korean villages of Sajorni and Krasnoe, who were in council till
near midnight, thought it was impossible to get across, and they said
that the ferryboat was drawn ashore and was frozen in for the winter,
and that two Russian Commissioners and a General, after waiting for
three days, had left the day before, having failed. However, yielding
to my urgency, they set all the able-bodied men of Sajorni to work at 2
A.M. to dig the boat out, and by 7 she had moved some yards towards the
river, which, however, was still a sheet of ice. Later, the corporal
sent 14 of his men to help the Koreans, laughingly saying that I had
the “Whole Russian frontier army to get me across.” At 9 word came
that the boat was nearly afloat, and we started, on horseback, with
two baggage ponies, and rode a mile over the hills and through the
prosperous Korean village of Sajorni, down to a dazzling expanse of
sand through which the Tu-men flows to the sea, there 10 miles off.
The river ice was breaking up into large masses under the morning sun,
and between Russia and Korea there was much open water about 600 feet
broad. The experts said if we could get over at all it would be between
noon and 2, after which the ice would pack and freeze together again.
Koreans and Cossacks worked with a will, breaking the ice, digging
under the boat, and moving her with levers, but it was noon before the
unwieldy craft, used for the ferriage of oxen, moved into the water,
accompanied by a hearty cheer. She leaked badly, two men were required
to bale her, and the stern platform, by which animals enter her, was
carried away. The baggage was carried in by men wading much over their
knees, and then came the turn of the ponies, but not the whole Russian
army by force or persuasion could get those wretched animals embarked.
After a whole hour’s work and any amount of kicking, plunging,
and injuries, from getting one or two legs over the bulwarks, and
struggling back, and rolling backwards into the river, two were
apparently safe in the ferryboat, when suddenly they knocked over the
man who held them and jumped into the water, one blind animal being
rescued with difficulty, and the other cutting his legs considerably.
The ice was then fast forming, but the soldiers made one more attempt,
which failed, owing to what Americans would not inaptly call the
“cussedness” of the Siberian ponies. For the first time on any journey
I had to confess myself baffled, for it was impossible to swim the
contumacious animals across, owing to the heavy ice floes and the
low temperature of the water. I had sat on my pony watching these
proceedings for nearly four hours, watching too the grand Korean
mountains as they swept down to the icy river in every shade of cobalt
blue, varied by indigo shadows of the white cloud masses which sailed
slowly across the heavenly sky. At that point from which I most
reluctantly turned back, the Tu-men has a large volume of water, but
above and below sandbanks render the navigation so difficult that it
is only in the rainy season that flat-bottomed boats make the attempt,
and not always with success, to reach the Korean town of K’wan, 80
_versts_, or something over 50 miles, above Krasnoye Celo. The Chinese,
in the insane notion that Japan was about to land a large force on the
south bank of the Tu-men, had seized all the boats above the Russian
post.
[Illustration: RUSSIAN “ARMY,” KRASNOYE CELO.]
I photographed the “Russian army” and the barracks as well as the
Boundary Stone, and the corporal slouching against the scaly forlorn
quarters on the desolate height in an attitude of extreme dejection, as
we drove away leaving him to his usual dulness.
The days of the return journey gave me a good opportunity of learning
something of the condition of the Koreans under another Government than
their own. So long ago as 1863, 13 families from Ham-gyöng Do crossed
the frontier and settled on the river Tyzen Ho, a little to the north
of Possiet Bay. By 1866 there were 100 families there, very poor,
among which the Russian Government distributed cattle and seed for
cultivation.
During 1869, a year of very great scarcity in Northern Korea, 4,500
Koreans migrated, hunger-driven, into Primorsk, some 3,800 of them
being absolutely destitute. These had to be supported, no easy thing,
as the territory, only ceded to Russia a few years before, was but a
thinly peopled wilderness, and was also suffering from a bad harvest.
In 1897 there were in Primorsk 32 village districts, _i.e._ villages
with outlying hamlets, divided into 5 administrative districts. Besides
these, one village belongs to the city of Khabaroffka on the Amur,
and there are large Korean settlements adjacent to Wladivostok and
Nikolskoye. The total number of Korean immigrants is estimated at from
16,000 to 18,000. It must be remembered that several thousands of these
were literally paupers, and that they subsisted for nearly a year on
the charity of the Russian authorities, and after that were indebted
to them for seed corn. They settled on the rich lands of the Siberian
valleys mostly as squatters, but have been unmolested for many years.
Many have purchased the lands they occupy, and in other cases villages
have acquired community rights to their adjacent lands. It is the
intention of Government that squatting shall gradually be replaced by
purchase, the purchasers receiving legal title-deeds.
These alien settlers practically enjoy autonomy. At the head of each
district is an Elder or Headman, with from one to three assistants
according to its size. The police and their officers are Korean. In
each district there are two or three judges with their clerks, who try
minor offences. The headmen, who are responsible for order and the
collection of taxes, are paid salaries, or receive various allowances.
All these officials are Koreans, and are elected by the people
themselves from among themselves. The Government taxation is 10 roubles
(about £1) on each farm per annum. The local taxation, settled by the
villagers in council for their own purposes, such as roads, ditches,
bridges, and schools, is limited to 3 roubles per farm per annum. Men
who are not landholders pay from 1 to 2 roubles per annum.
Koreans settled in Siberia prior to 1884 can claim rights as Russian
subjects, and at this time those who can prove that they have been
settled on purchased lands for ten years can do so, as well as certain
others, well reported of as being of settled lives and good conduct.
Owing to the steady influx of settlers from Southern Russia, the rich
lands near the railroad are required for colonization, and further
immigration from Korea has been prohibited; The sending of Koreans who
are either squatters or of unsettled lives to the Amur Province is
under discussion.
The villages between Krasnoye Celo and Nowo Kiewsk are fair average
specimens of Russo-Korean settlements. The roads are fairly good, and
the ditches which border them well kept. Sanitary rules are strictly
enforced, the headman being made responsible for village cleanliness.
Unlike the poor, ragged, filthy villages of the peninsula, these
are well-built in Korean style, of whitewashed mud and laths, trimly
thatched, the compounds or farmyards are enclosed by whitewashed walls,
or high fences of neatly woven reeds, and look as if they were swept
every morning, and the farm buildings are substantial and well kept.
Even the pigsties testify to the Argus eyes of the district chiefs of
police.
Most of the dwellings have four, five, and even six rooms, with papered
walls and ceilings, fretwork doors and windows, “glazed” with white
translucent paper, finely matted floors, and an amount of plenishings
rarely to be found even in a mandarin’s house in Korea. Cabinets,
bureaus, and rice chests of ornamental wood with handsome brass
decorations, low tables, stools, cushions, brass samovars, dressers
displaying brass dinner services, brass bowls, china, tea-glasses,
brass candlesticks, brass kerosene lamps, and a host of other things,
illustrate the capacity to secure comfort. Pictures of the Tsar and
Tsaritza, of the Christ, and of Greek saints, and framed cards of
twelve Christian prayers, replace the coarse daubs of the family dæmons
in very many houses. Out of doors full granaries, ponies, mares with
foals, black pigs of an improved breed, draught oxen, and fat oxen for
the Wladivostok market, with ox-carts and agricultural implements,
attest solid material prosperity. It would be impossible for a
traveller to meet with more cordial hospitality and more cleanly and
comfortable accommodation than I did in these Korean homes.
But there is more than this. The air of the men has undergone a subtle
but real change, and the women, though they nominally keep up their
habit of seclusion, have lost the hang-dog air which distinguishes them
at home. The suspiciousness and indolent conceit, and the servility
to his betters, which characterize the home-bred Korean have very
generally given place to an independence and manliness of manner rather
British than Asiatic. The alacrity of movement is a change also, and
has replaced the conceited swing of the _yang-ban_ and the heartless
lounge of the peasant. There are many chances for making money, and
there is neither mandarin nor _yang-ban_ to squeeze it out of the
people when made, and comforts and a certain appearance of wealth no
longer attract the rapacious attentions of officials, but are rather
a credit to a man than a source of insecurity. All who work can be
comfortable, and many of the farmers are rich and engage in trade,
making and keeping extensive contracts.
Those Koreans who are not settled on lands chiefly in the direction of
the Chinese frontier, and who subsist by wood cutting and hauling, are
less well off, and their hamlets have something of squalor about them.
In Korea I had learned to think of Koreans as the dregs of a race, and
to regard their condition as hopeless, but in Primorsk I saw reason for
considerably modifying my opinion. It must be borne in mind that these
people, who have raised themselves into a prosperous farming class,
and who get an excellent character for industry and good conduct alike
from Russian police officials, Russian settlers, and military officers,
were not exceptionally industrious and thrifty men. They were mostly
starving folk who fled from famine, and their prosperity and general
demeanor give me the hope that their countrymen in Korea, if they ever
have an honest administration and protection for their earnings, may
slowly develop into _men_.
In parts of Western Asia I have had occasion to note the success of
Russian administration in conquered or acquired provinces, and with
subject races, specially her creation of an orderly, peaceful, and
settled agricultural population out of the nomadic and predatory tribes
of Turkestan. Her success with the Korean immigrants is in its way as
remarkable, for the material is inferior. She is firm where firmness
is necessary, but outside that limit allows extreme latitude, avoids
harassing aliens by petty prohibitions and irksome rules, encourages
those forms of local self-government which suit the genius and habits
of different peoples, and trusts to time, education, and contact with
other forms of civilization to amend what is reprehensible in customs,
religion, and costume.
A few days later I went to Hun-chun on the frontier of Chinese
Manchuria, from its position an important military post, and was most
hospitably received by the Commandant and his married _aide-de-camp_.
There, as everywhere in Primorsk, and from the civil as well as
the military authorities, I not only received the utmost kindness,
courtesy, and hospitality, but information was frankly given on the
various topics I was interested in, and help towards the attainment of
my objects. Hun-chun is in the midst of mountainous country, denuded
of wood in recent years, and abounding in rich, well-watered valleys
inhabited only by Koreans. A wilder, drearier, and more wind-swept
situation it would be hard to find.
Instead of “4,000 troops” there were only 200 Cossacks, housed in a
good brick barrack, one half of which is a much decorated chapel,
besides which there are only open thatched sheds for their hardy,
active Baikal horses, a small, well-arranged hospital, a wooden house
for the Colonel Commandant, and some terra-cotta mud-houses for the
officers and married troopers. The whole Russian military force from
Hun-chun to the Amur consisted of 1,500 Cossacks, distributed among
thirty frontier posts. The Commandant told me that their chief duty at
that time was the “daily” arresting of Chinese brigands who crossed
the frontier to harry the Korean villages, and who, on being marched
back and handed over to the mandarins, were at once liberated to repeat
their forays.
The Chinese had “massed” several thousand of their Manchu troops at
Hun-chun, and they had created such a reign of terror that the peasant
farmers had deserted their homes over a large area of country. The
soldiers, robbed by their officers of their nominal pay, and only
half fed, relied on unlimited pillage for making up the deficiency,
and neither women nor property were safe from their brutality and
violence. So desperately undisciplined were they that only a few
days before the Secretary and Interpreter of the Russian frontier
Commissioner at Nowo Kiewsk, visiting Hun-chun on official business,
narrowly escaped actual violence at their hands, and the Chinese
Governor told them that he had no control at all over the troops.
It was only the rigid discipline of the Cossacks which prevented
scrimmages which might have produced a serious conflagration.
[Illustration: KOREAN SETTLERS’ HOUSE.]