VOYAGE AND ARRIVAL 35 



and wreckage reminiscent of a bygone Bank Holiday 

 at home, and this is inevitably christened the Alex- 

 androvsky Sad (Alexander Garden), or perhaps the 

 Gorodsky Sad (Town Garden). Very often the " sad " 

 part of the affair most fits the result, but the boulevard 

 at Batoum, lined by a glory of tropical vegetation, 

 with the glittering shimmer of the blue Euxine stretch- 

 ing away to meet a bluer sky, glows with an atmosphere 

 and colour impossible to describe. Your eyes rest on 

 the witching scene, and — the East's a-calling ! 



Batoum station absolutely reeked of petroleum, — 

 kerosine as Russians always call it. The reason for 

 the overwhelming odour was not far to seek. Huge 

 grey cylindrical casks, like vast iron boilers, from 

 Baku, " the City of the Winds," lay ready for further 

 journeying, and on a siding a whole train-load of them 

 had just arrived. 



Quantities of oil are also brought from the distant 

 fields by a pipe line, after which it is cased for export, 

 or tanked straight away on the steamers, whose fuel 

 it is also. 



We had a most amusing time trying to secure 

 tickets and arrange excess luggage charges on our 

 kit. The Russian which Kenneth and Cecily had 

 bragged so much about was decidedly rusty, and the 

 clerk-in-charge took a seat at last and gave himself up 

 to conning a portly tome of international expressions. 

 A tall Caucasian came to our rescue eventually, asking 

 us in French what he could do to help us. This good 

 Samaritan was bound for Tifiis also. We need fear 

 nothing. 



