ride two soldiers on
brown horses, engaged in a lively conversation and wondering whether
they will be well tipped. Then come two clumsy carts, on which all my
baggage is firmly secured. They have their own drivers and men, and are
escorted by three troopers.

In this manner I travelled from Trebizond to Teheran. To the ceaseless
rattle of the wheels and the heavy tramp of the horses' hoofs, I plunged
day by day deeper into Asia. Soon the blue expanse of the Black Sea
passed out of sight, as the road with many steep and sudden bends wound
up to the top of a pass. On the other side it descended with as many
windings to the bottom of a valley. And thus we went up and down till we
were up at length on the level Armenian tableland.

[Illustration: MAP SHOWING (_a_) JOURNEY FROM CONSTANTINOPLE TO TEHERAN
(pp. 26-33); (_b_) LATTER PART OF JOURNEY TO BAKU (pp. 34-35); AND (_c_)
JOURNEY FROM BAKU ACROSS PERSIA TO BAGHDAD AND BACK TO TEHERAN (pp.
37-45).]

Here there is a complete change. During the first days after leaving the
coast, we had driven through a beautiful and constantly changing
landscape. We had passed through woods of coniferous trees and among
rustling foliage of yellow leaves. Sometimes we had been hundreds of
feet above an abyss, at the foot of which a bluish-green stream foamed
between rounded rocks. Beside the road we had seen rows of villages and
farms, with houses and verandahs of wood, where Turks sat comfortably in
their shops and cafes; and we had met many small caravans of horses,
asses, and oxen carrying hay, fruit, and bricks between the villages. We
always began our day's march in the early morning, for the nights were
mild and the sun had scarcely risen before it felt pleasant.

But up here on the plateau it is different. No firs adorn the mountain
flanks, no foliaged trees throw their shade over the road. No creaking
carts, laden with timber and drawn by buffaloes and oxen, enliven the
way. The villages are scattered, and the houses are low cabins of stone
or sun-dried clay. The Turkish population is blended with Armenians. The
road becomes worse and more neglected as the traffic falls off. The air
is cool, and there are several degrees of frost in the night.

When we have passed Erzerum, where the Christian churches of the
Armenians stand side by side with the mosques of the Turks, we journey,
as it were, on a flat roof sloping down slightly on three sides, each
with a gutter leading into it