FROM GOKTCHAI TO LENKORAN. 297 



sake of its abundance of clear water, offering a 

 batli without stint to the dirty wayfarer, and the 

 promise of caviare almost without cost to the hungry 

 epicure. 



Thank heaven, a Russian yemstchik's toilet does 

 not take long to make. A shake, a yawn, a 

 cigarette, and, if times are good, a glass of neat 

 vodka, and he is ready to face anything, from his 

 sweetheart to a north-easter. Would that his 

 horses' gear was as speedily arranged as his own ; 

 unluckily it is not. Still, in spite of the scores of 

 breakages in the harness of rotten rope and still 

 more rotten thong, our impatient desire to be off 

 was gratified at last, and Avith glowing visions of 

 at least a clean hut and heaps of good fish and ' ikra ' 

 at Salian, we bumped all breakfastless along our last 

 stage to the land of promise. All along our route 

 wild-fowl swarmed, and through the low covert we 

 saw numbers of foxes threading their way. All 

 the way from Adji Kabool, a station at the foot of 

 the hills in which Shemakha lies, and of which I 

 can find no trace in my map. any more than I can 

 of the large lake near it, to Salian and thence to 

 Lenkoran, the country is full of ponds, estuaries, 

 and lakelets, which teem with wild-fowl. I stopped 

 the cart once to kill some pochards for dinner, 

 and a couple of beautiful white egrets for pre- 

 serving. 



And now the river came in sight, a broad, 



