The view of Baku, although seen through driving rain, was eminently picturesque, and the old ruined maiden’s tower (in the centre of my sketch) which is close to the wharf stands up boldly from amongst the modern buildings. Forty years ago Baku was a small town with its picturesque eastern quarter, but now it is a city boasting more than a quarter of a million inhabitants, as cosmopolitan as a seaport on the Mediterranean. The extraordinary change is of course due to the discovery of oil, which has brought wealth, ugliness, and other undesirable things to the surrounding country. The country round Baku is hideous, a sort of eruption of oil derricks covers miles of it. These are pyramidal buildings like square mill chimneys, only considerably thicker at the base, and there are no less than 2000 at Balakhani closely packed together. There is such an abundance of oil that in many parts it is only necessary to make a hole in the ground with a stick and a jet of flame will rise in the air. On still nights it is possible to set light to the oil which gathers on the surface of the sea. No wonder that the Parsees worshipped the strange fire, and there still exists a curious temple at a place called Surakhany, about half a day’s journey from Baku, where the so-called “eternal fires” burn, though the last worshippers left it some quarter of a century ago. The modern spirit has changed it into a profitable petroleum factory. [Illustration: TIFLIS] [Illustration: A PERSIAN] The town is evidently well worth seeing, but the pitiless rain drove us to the Hotel d’Europe, and we were glad to resume our journey, deciding to go round by Tiflis instead of direct from Baku to Vienna. There is a through train to the frontier, Volochisk, which takes four nights and three days, and from thence it is another day and night journey to Vienna. We were told that it would be only a difference of hours if we took the other route, and that by so doing we could see the magnificent pass through the Caucasus, travelling from Tiflis to Vladikavkaz by public automobile. It was impossible in Baku to ascertain anything definite as to the hours of starting or arriving of the automobile, but as our train was due at 6.30 A.M. we fondly imagined we should be in time to catch it. Nothing of the sort. With Russian perversity it started in connection with no train, but at 6 A.M. We could hardly regret the delay, however, for we found ourselves in such comfortable quarters at the quiet Hotel de Londres, which had been recommended to us, and we should have appreciated it the more had we known then that they were the last beds we should occupy till we reached London a week later.