fowl, a living contradiction to the travellers’ tales which represent the great lake as nearly destitute of animal life. The northern horizon is hemmed in by the rugged outlines of the Great Balkans, a range as desolate and forbidding as the mountains of the moon. Then the train plunges into a boundless plain covered with sparse tufts of wiry grass. This is the great Turkoman Desert, the habitat of that splendid race which inspired terror in the Roman legionaries and defied the greatest military power of modern Europe. But soon the rugged outlines of the Kopet Dāgh Mountains open southward, and at 6.22 on the following morning the train halts at Kizil Arvat, the workshops of the Transcaspian Railway, which break the wild poetry of hill and desert by their prose of Western industry. They were founded ten years ago by General Annenkoff, whose modest bungalow is still pointed out with the respect instinctively rendered to genius everywhere. The works on the south side of the railway are as complete in their degree as those at Crewe. The forges and fitting shops come first in order. They occupy two masonry sheds, exhibiting lines of blacksmiths’ forges, in each of which an astatki fire burns without the smallest attention from the operatives. The installation in the turning-shop, with its lathes and steam hammers, would interest an Englishman more if it was not too evident that the appliances were of German origin. It is a relief to pass into the engine-room and find one of the five machines, with a horse-power of 52 nominal, bearing the honoured name of Tangye. The foundry will be next visited. It can furnish castings up to a maximum of two tons. In point of fact, locomotives of the latest pattern may be turned out at Kizil Arvat; though in practice it is found expedient to import them from Moscow. The carpenters’ shops are lofty structures, with a floor area of 36,000 feet, where cars and waggons are turned out with great rapidity. The inspecting carriages are marvels of compactness, containing a saloon upholstered with luxurious settees, a bedroom, bath, and kitchen. The storehouses are specially worth visiting. Their sides are lined with masonry compartments, containing tools, with “plus and minus” slips enabling stock to be taken in in a few hours. With the exception of a few files which bear Sheffield trade-marks, the tools are all the products of Russian and German workshops. Nor has our declining metallurgic industry any share in the supply of raw material, for the tariff practically excludes its products from the empire in the absence of a special authorisation of the Ministry of Commerce. Some attention is paid to the comfort of the workmen employed at Kizil Arvat. There is an institute, styled a Casino, containing a restaurant, where meals can be had at an absurdly low tariff, and a ballroom large enough to accommodate the 700 workmen and their wives. Some distraction is a sheer necessity,