e _Twentieth Century_
trusts to the zeal, intelligence, activity and tact of its
correspondent, who can draw on its bankers to any extent he may deem
necessary."

It was the very morning I had arrived at Tiflis with the intention of
spending three weeks there in a visit to the Georgian provinces for the
benefit of my newspaper, and also, I hoped, for that of its readers.

Here was the unexpected, indeed; the uncertainty of a special
correspondent's life.

At this time the Russian railways had been connected with the line
between Poti, Tiflis and Baku. After a long and increasing run through
the Southern Russian provinces I had crossed the Caucasus, and imagined
I was to have a little rest in the capital of Transcaucasia. And here
was the imperious administration of the _Twentieth Century_ giving me
only half a day's halt in this town! I had hardly arrived before I was
obliged to be off again without unstrapping my portmanteau! But what
would you have? We must bow to the exigencies of special correspondence
and the modern interview!

But all the same I had been carefully studying this Transcaucasian
district, and was well provided with geographic and ethnologic
memoranda. Perhaps it may be as well for you to know that the fur cap,
in the shape of a turban, which forms the headgear of the mountaineers
and cossacks is called a "papakha," that the overcoat gathered in at
the waist, over which the cartridge belt is hung, is called a
"tcherkeska" by some and "bechmet" by others! Be prepared to assert
that the Georgians and Armenians wear a sugar-loaf hat, that the
merchants wear a "touloupa," a sort of sheepskin cape, that the Kurd
and Parsee still wear the "bourka," a cloak in a material something
like plush which is always waterproofed.

And of the headgear of the Georgian ladies, the "tassakravi," composed
of a light ribbon, a woolen veil, or piece of muslin round such lovely
faces; and their gowns of startling colors, with the wide open sleeves,
their under skirts fitted to the figure, their winter cloak of velvet,
trimmed with fur and silver gimp, their summer mantle of white cotton,
the "tchadre," which they tie tight on the neck--all those fashions in
fact so carefully entered in my notebook, what shall I say of them?

Learn, then, that their national orchestras are composed of "zournas,"
which are shrill flutes; "salamouris," which are squeaky clarinets;
mandolines, with copper strings, twanged with a feather;