At Tiflis we gave up our passports (according to regulation) to the hotel-keeper, stating where we had come from and our next halting place, namely Vienna. The police have to put their official signatures on the passport wherever you stop on Russian soil, but also in addition something further when you wish to leave the country, and every time the passport is visé-ed the traveller has to pay. We presumed that this had been properly done at Tiflis, having paid for it, but when we reached Volochisk and the officials came for all the passengers’ passports, they looked at ours and returned them to us in a rough, surly way, saying something that we could not understand, instead of carrying them off with the others. Every one was locked up in the train, and in due course of time the officials returned with the passports and gave them back to their owners. They pointed us to the door, and proceeded to put our luggage out. A lady from an adjoining carriage came and explained the situation; the passports had not been properly signed for leaving the country, and we should have to telegraph to the police at Tiflis before we should be allowed to leave. “How long will it take?” we asked in dismay. “Oh! not more than three or four days!” We inquired if there was no method of tipping by which we could escape such a dismal prospect, but she was emphatic in denying it. She suggested, however, that by treble payment we could send a quick telegram instead of a slow one, and she got her husband to go and explain our sad condition to the officer in charge of the station. He was fortunately able to speak a little German, and he ordered an underling to go and write the necessary telegram to the police at Tiflis. The little colonel was in full regimentals, and wore spurs, and the station had a military guard; he had to be there on arrival of every train apparently, and acted as stationmaster. He reassured us by saying that we might hope for an answer in the course of the afternoon (it was now about ten in the morning), in which case we could take the evening train to Vienna. We had the melancholy satisfaction of finding that we were not the only people whose passports were unsatisfactory; in fact no one seemed surprised about it except ourselves. We tried to beguile the weary hours by watching the custom-house officials enjoying themselves over the parcel post; a number of muslin dress lengths were unpacked and inspected, as well as sundry other things. The restaurant was a source of amusement as well as comfort to us, and was far superior to an English one at a similar station. At long intervals trains arrived, and we visited the telegraph office from time to time.