and cut away the portmanteau which was tied behind. Nothing, however, happened, except that once or twice in the darkness, for it was as black as a wolf's mouth, with thunderstorms growling in the distance, we ran into Tatar carts making for the city, and were nearly capsized. At 2 A.M. we entered Tiflis, and took possession of our old quarters there.

Three days spent in the capital, which seemed more of an oven than ever, made us not unwilling to set our faces homewards, since it appeared that the expedition through Daghestan we had meditated would occupy a fortnight at least, more time than my friend could spare. There are but two ways of getting from Tiflis to Europe, the one that we had followed in coming, across the Dariel Pass and by railway to the Sea of Azof, the other by rail to Poti on the Black Sea. This latter line, opened in 1872, is the only railway in Transcaucasia; and now that Russia has, by going to war, debarred herself for some time to come from projects of internal improvement, it is likely long to remain so. Three other lines, however, have been projected which would mightily open up the country. One of these is across the mountains from Tiflis to Vladikavkaz, avoiding the top of the Dariel Pass by a tunnel a little to the east of the present road. A second is from Tiflis to the Persian frontier, near Tavriz, passing through Erivan. This would give a stimulus to the trade with Persia, and would not be difficult of construction except in one section, that over the mountains north of the Goktcha lake. The third is from Tiflis to Baku on the Caspian. This is

the necessary completion of the Black Sea line, and is much the most likely to be carried out, especially as it runs over a level country, where bridging the rivers is the only difficulty. It would greatly strengthen Russia's military position, as well as increase her Caspian trade, and would indeed leave Persia pretty much at her mercy. However, Persia is that already ; if the Russians are foolish enough to wish to annex in that direction, they may do so when they please.

Desiring to see something of the coast of Asia Minor, and especially of Batum and Trebizond, we chose the route by Poti, and on the 22nd of September took our seats in the train for the Black Sea. There is but one in the day, which leaves at 9.30 A.M., and is due at Poti about II P.M., the distance being 191 miles. The station at Tiflis lies a good bit out of the town, beyond the German colony, but the houses are creeping out towards it. There may have been, besides soldiers, some forty passengers, few of whom, however, were going through. Running up the valley of the Kur, we soon passed Mtzkhet, the ancient capital of Georgia, with its ruins scattered over the promontory between the Kur and the Aragva, in the midst of which rise two stately old churches, one of them the patriarchal cathedral of old Georgia. For Mtzkhet is admittedly the oldest city in the country. It was founded by Mtzkhetos, son of Karthlos, the eponymous hero of the Georgian race, who was fourth. in descent from Noah through Japhet, Gomer, and Thogarmah, and brother of Haik, the ancestor of the Armenians. The Georgian annals present a long

string of monarchs from these patriarchs downwards, which after all are just as authentic as George Buchanan's early kings of Scotland, or the dynasties of the Odin-descended Ynglings in Scandinavia, or most noble pedigrees in our own country. Anyhow, whether Mtzkhet is really the oldest city in the world or not, it is a place of vast antiquity, having unquestionably existed long before Tiflis, which sprang up in the fourth century A.D., was heard of. Tradition fixes it as the spot where Karthlos was buried, where stood a great image of Ormazd, whose worship had been introduced from Persia, and where St. Nina, whose cross of vine sticks was long preserved in the cathedral, converted the Iberian king and people to Christianity. In the cliff of soft rock which borders the river, innumerable caves have been hollowed out, evidently by hand, and were probably inhabited before any buildings rose on the flat above. Similar rock-dwellings appear at intervals all the way up the valley of the Kur, not mere scattered hermits' nests, but mostly crowded together to form a sort of troglodyte village.

Above Mtzkhet the railway, keeping along the southern bank of the river, enters a long defile between hills, which are sometimes wooded to their base, sometimes descend to the narrow bottom of the valley in precipices from forty to one hundred feet high. The scenery is pretty without being grand. What most strikes one is the great strength of the gorge in a military point of view. Fearing no enemy here, the Russians have not thought it worth their while to fortify, but even a small force could hold a much.

larger one in check in this valley, which effectually separates the upper basin of the Kur from the lowlands stretching from Tiflis to the Caspian. After a good many miles of this narrow glen, the hills recede. a little, and the town of Gori appears lying in a small plain at the foot of a castellated rock, where a broad shallow stream comes down from the Caucasus to mingle its sparkling waters with the muddy Kur. Here, a little before one o'clock, we left the train, meaning to catch the corresponding one next day, drove into the town which is half a mile away, found quarters at a humble inn lately set up by an Armenian, and after a while went round to present ourselves to the German apothecary, Mr. Schoff, to whom, as the representative of learning and culture in the place, we had brought a letter of introduction from Tiflis. Much to our pleasure, we found not only the Herr Apotheker himself, who belonged to one of the "colonial families" of Tiflis, but a hearty welcome from his wife, a Franco-German lady, who spoke excellent English. Mr. Schoff led us through the modest bazaar to visit the one sight of Gori, its castle perched on a rock that rises abruptly out of a plain so flat that you cannot help supposing it to have been a lake bed, drained off when the ravine through which the Kur forces its downward way was formed. From the top of the rock, nearly 200 feet above this plain, there is a magnificent view over the Caucasus to the north, most of the great peaks between Elbruz and Kazbek being visible. We, however, were in ill-luck here, as we had been at Pjätigorsk, on the other side of

the chain. There was, as there often is in this valley, a violent gale blowing from the west, but the mountains were covered with such thick lowlying clouds that the snows could not be seen, only a long line of forest-covered heights. The position is so strong and commanding that a fortress may well be believed to have existed here from the remotest times; but it is impossible to say what date ought to be ascribed to the existing walls. In the midst of them stands a small and very ancient church, now used as a powder magazine by the Russian garrison. The natives call it the Golden Hill, saying that here the emperor Heraclius kept his treasures in the great war he waged with Persia.

The town below is a poor place, with a bazaar consisting of two or three arcades, and but slight traces of its former greatness in several old churches, one of which shows a sacred picture presented by Justinian. Its population, which is under 4000, consists mainly of Armenians, who abound in the country places as well as in the towns all up this part of the Kur valley, and keep themselves distinct from the Georgians. The climate is much cooler than that of Tiflis, and the environs prettier, so that people have often regretted that Gori was not made the capital of Transcaucasia when the Russians crossed the mountains, especially as Tiflis had been shortly before reduced to ruins by the Persian invaders of 1795. Now that so many public buildings have been erected at Tiflis, it is too late to make a change.

The evening was pleasantly spent in discourse with