Mongols, the long pigtails of the Chinese, the strange and unintelligible language, all plainly told us we were about to bid a long farewell to our country and all dear to us there. Hard as it was to reconcile ourselves to the thought, we were somewhat cheered by the prospect of soon commencing a journey which had been the dream of my early childhood. Entirely in the dark as we were in regard to our future wanderings, we resolved first of all to go to Peking, there to obtain a passport from the Chinese Government, and then to start for the remoter regions of the Celestial Empire. This advice was given us by General Vlangali, at that time our Ambassador in China, who from first to last assisted the expedition by every means in his power, and whose generous forethought contributed more than anything to its ultimate success. Afterwards, on our first march from Peking, we saw the advantage of having a passport direct from the Chinese Foreign Office, instead of one from the Frontier Commissioner at Kiakhta. Such a passport gave us far greater importance in the eyes of the local population, a very material consideration in China, and (it must be confessed) in other countries also.
Europeans have the choice of two modes of conveyance from Kiakhta to Peking; either by post-horses, or by caravan camels engaged by special bargain with their owners.
Postal communications through Mongolia were established by the treaties of Tien-tsin (1858) and
