This Route Is _Via_ Berlin, Cracow, Kharkoff, And
Vladikavkas, And From The Latter Place By Coach (Through The Dariel
Gorge) To Tiflis.
The purchase of a warm astrachan bonnet, a bourka, [C] and bashlik, [D]
completed my outfit.
It now consisted of two small portmanteaus (to be
changed at Teheran for saddle-bags), a common canvas sack for sleeping
purposes, and a brace of revolvers. Gerome was similarly accoutred,
with the exception of the portmanteaus. My interpreter was evidently
not luxuriously inclined, for his _impedimenta_ were all contained in
a small black leather hand-bag! All being ready, eleven o'clock on the
night of the 12th of January found us standing on the platform of the
Tiflis railway station, awaiting the arrival of the Baku train, which
had been delayed by a violent storm down the line.
I received a letter from the governor a few hours before my departure,
wishing me _bon voyage_, and enclosing a document to ensure help and
civility from the officials throughout his dominions. It may seem
ungrateful, but I felt that I could well have dispensed with this,
especially as I was leaving his Excellency's government at Baku, a
distance of only ten hours by rail.
It was again snowing hard, and the east wind cut through my bourka as
if it had been a thin linen jacket. Seeking shelter in the crowded,
stuffy waiting-room, we solaced ourselves with cigarettes and vodka
till past 2 a.m., when the train arrived. Another delay of two hours
now occurred, the engine having broken down; but the carriages, like
those of most Russian railways, were beautifully warmed, and we slept
soundly, undisturbed by the howling of the wind and shouting of
railway officials.
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