land, it is not _via_ Merv and
Cabul, but by way of Persia and Baluchistan.

The original scheme was a bold one, and I derive some consolation in
the thought that the journey would most probably have ended in defeat.
This was the idea. From Tiflis to Baku, and across the Caspian to
Ouzoun Ada, the western terminus of the Trans-Caspian Railway. Thence
by rail to Merv and Bokhara, and from the latter city direct to India,
_via_ Balkh and Cabul, Afghanistan. A more interesting journey can
scarcely be conceived, but Fate and the Russian Government decreed
that it was not to be. Not only was I forbidden to use the railway,
but (notwithstanding the highest recommendation from the Russian
Ambassador in London) even to set foot in Trans-Caspia.

The old adage, "delay is dangerous," is never so true as when applied
to travel. The evening of my interview with the governor, I had
resolved, ere retiring to rest, to make for India _via_ Teheran.
My route beyond that city was, perforce, left to chance, and the
information I hoped to gain in the Shah's capital.

Tiflis, capital of the Caucasus, is about midway between the Black
and Caspian seas, and lies in a valley between two ranges of low but
precipitous hills. The river Kur, a narrow but swift and picturesque
stream spanned by three bridges, bisects the city, which is divided in
three parts: the Russian town, European colony, and Asiatic quarter.
The population of over a hundred thousand is indeed a mixed one.
Although Georgians form its bulk, Persia contributes nearly a quarter,
the rest being composed of Russians, Germans, French, Armenians,
Greeks, Tartars, Circassians, Jews, Turks, and Heaven knows what
besides. [B]

Tiflis is a city of contrasts. The principal boulevard, with its
handsome stone buildings and shops, tramways, gay cafes, and electric
light, would compare favourably with the Nevski Prospect in St.
Petersburg, or almost any first-class European thoroughfare; and yet,
almost within a stone's throw, is the Asiatic quarter, where the
traveller is apparently as far removed from Western civilization as in
the most remote part of Persia or Turkestan. The Armenian and Persian
bazaars are perhaps the most interesting, I doubt whether the streets
of Yezd or Bokhara present so strange and picturesque a sight, such
vivid effects of movement and colour. Every race, every nationality,
is represented, from the stalwart, ruddy-faced Russian soldier in flat
white cap and o