silver ground. Then, again, one pauses to listen as a vendor of long key-boarded guitars strikes some little plaintive melody from the thin strings.

I spent Easter in Tiflis, and thus had an opportunity of witnessing the beautiful service which, in the Orthodox Church, marks the end of Lent. The ritual of the Russian Church, together with the architecture and decoration of the churches, lends not a little to the impressiveness of such scenes, and the old Byzantine cathedral of Tiflis formed as picturesque a background to the religious ceremony as could well be imagined. On account of the crowd that throngs the midnight service which ushers in the great national holiday of Russia, it is necessary to take one's stand-for there are no seats-at an early hour, and I had already been in the cathedral for nearly three hours when the ceremony commenced. There is no necessity here to enter into any of the details of the ritual of this beautiful service of the Orthodox Church, for at this spot I am dealing with it solely as an effect, a most telling reminiscence of a visit to Tiflis.

The service commences in the dull gloom, for, with the exception of a few lights upon and in the vicinity of the altar, the church is unlit. But this gloom tends to heighten the effect of the group of richly robed and mitred priests that throng the steps, chant

MIDNIGHT SERVICE AT EASTER.

49

ing in turn with the choir of unaccompanied boys' and men's voices the music of the service. In contrast to the group about the altar steps was the dark heaving crowd, half hidden in the filmy clouds of the incense and the dusk of the building. At length, as midnight approached, the priests and choir filed down the church and left the building by the main entrance, one or two alone remaining within. Then, as a rocket without gave the sign of midnight, a loud knocking commenced at the door, which was repeated several times. On the gate being opened the priests and choir hurried in, crying out again and again, "Christ is risen! Christ is risen!" Each bore in his hand a lighted taper, from which the nearer members of the crowd lit their own, passing the flame from candle to candle, for every one in the building bore a taper. It took but a minute to change the entire scene, and as the priests made their way to the altar, swinging their censers as they went, the gloom of the church disappeared, and the building was lit by thousands upon thousands of candles: where, before, the dusk had prevented one seeing either the church or the crowd, every picture and detail of the decoration of the building, and every figure in it, became distinct. The seething mass of humanity took form and shape; and where, before, one recognised only dark figures in an incense-laden twilight, one recog

D

nised now the officers of the Government, in uniforms bespangled with orders, accompanied by their wives and daughters, and, beyond, a vision of a thousand upturned faces full of reverence and attention. The altar, now a blaze of light, sparkled and shone with its treasures, and the richly jewelled mitres and clothof-gold robes of the priests dazzled the eyes.

Then, as the congratulations of Easter were taking place, I pushed my way out through the crowd, into the brightly-illuminated streets, in time to see the Governor-General drive away, escorted by his bodyguard of Cossacks, who galloped beside his carriage, bearing blazing torches on long poles.

Easter Sunday was high holiday; every man, woman, and child in their best clothes, intent upon pleasure and enjoyment, and the public gardens were thronged, while military bands made music. What an echoing and re-echoing of congratulations! what a bowing to the revered ikons at the church doors and street corners! and, as the day progressed, what a number of men who had enjoyed themselves a little too much! But there was no fighting, no roughness, and the police are lax upon this great feast, and, as long as no fighting takes place, do not interfere. The streets are full of hurrying droshkies, with their burdens of officers in uniforms and ladies, paying their visits of congratulation, or driving to the palace.

Ay! Easter Sunday in Tiflis is a sight to be seen, and never have I witnessed, in spite of its various nationalities, a better-behaved crowd-though sometimes far from sober-than thronged the streets and gardens on this feast-day.

Such, briefly, is Tiflis; a city presenting two entirely different characteristics - the Oriental in its decadence, and the Western Civilisation that Russia has brought with her, sweeping before her all that is rude and outworn, and in place thereof raising a city of which any country in the world might well be proud.

52

CHAPTER III.

A DRIVE ACROSS TRANSCAUCASIA.

ON a bright hot afternoon of April I left Tiflis by train for Akstafa, a small station on the Tiflis-Baku line, which forms the terminus of the great road, vid Erivan, to Julfa on the Persian frontier.

As one emerges from the capital of Transcaucasia one obtains a fine view of the city behind one, with its background of rugged, dark, barren hills, against which the painted houses and green iron roofs of the town stand out in brilliant patches of colour. Away below one the river Kur rushes between its high walls of rock, visible only where it leaves the town, for its banks farther up are crowded with high caravanserais and buildings which hide it entirely from view. The domes and minarets of a mosque or two add a touch of orientalism to the scene, while above them again the ruins of the