Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1902-11-29

cuplsd by both OF us In taking bath,
which is very serious business at THIS
and costs $50. not including the tip to
bath room. To begin with. you announce
that you wish to take q bath and then
hastily get your towels. soap and an to-
gether and make all your preparations
you countless ages but which IL in reality
about an hour. before the solemn announce
ment is made to you that your bath Is
ready.
A Tortuous Path.
As 1t Ii made In Russian you can only
guess its purport and trustingiy follow the
small. dark urchin along what seems to be
an endless passage and down innumerabie
very winding stairs until your head spins
horribly; but through another and very
dark passage you~ must still wind your
weary way, and at length. just you are
beginning to be half frightened and TO won
der when you viii come to the he end d., you
ground apartment, the lights are turned on
and after passing through the vauftsd
chamber you come to the bath room,
stM larger and more yaulted apartment.
where you discover, in far corner, the
bath--a small marble tub filled to the brim
and surrounded with aid modern improve
pents. even to the thermometer floating on
The water.
As you come forth again clean and
dressed you find the small brown thing
awaiting you and crowd OF smiling serV-
ants clustered about. all of whom wear an
expression Of respectful admiration which
seems unspeakably funny.
Having faced the dangers of a bath, we
employed the remaining hours OF the day
in prowlng about the Asatic quarter.
To one who is familiar with the Venetian
and Florentine shops and their varying
prices shopping in Tifiis Is no new thing,
only far more exaggerated In Its customs
and day In the bazaars is difficult and
far from pleasant affair. We were told to
offer a third of what WAS asked and then
to go slowly and grudgingly up to one-half,
which we accordingly did. always with
success. and came away with belts of pure
silver for. $3.50. for which we had been
asked at first sl3.
One of our four mornings spent In
climbing up to the old monastery of st.
David, which apparently is in canon high
up in the mountains. and which is said to
be 600 years old. The chapel was tawdry
and the monks were out in camp on the
mountain top, but the views out over the
city were fine, and the little spring which
dubbed up In grotto on the side of the
canon very sweet and cold. Another morn
ing we spent in the old botanical gardens
just under the ancient Turkish fortress,
where stream PUSHES madly down the
middle and the walls OF the old fortress are
abloom with flowers growing out of the
crumbling stone. After noisy Tifiis where
the heavily laden little donkeys bray loudly
and drivers shout to their horses, heavy
wagons are driven slowly over cobblestone
streets and the walls Of the narrow pas
sages echo with many strange sounds. the
cool shades and quie. Of the Old gardens are
very attractive.
A Disappointment.
Tifis was something of a disappointment,
for, when we compared it with Tangiers it
seemed not nearly SO eastern nor so inter-
esting There are few minarets and there
is modern air about the town in all ex-
On hn Y,1SNr no
of the fifth day at $50 we left for Batoum
and had ten hours Of as lovely scenery as
Is to be found anywhere. The line runs
through the lower mountains, with mar
row river rushing along beside 1t and dis
tant views Of snowy Mount Kazbek and the
other high peaks.
There are many stops, but the stations
are full of people In all varieties Of cos
tune. one and all wearing the hood with
long labs which Is peculiar to the Caucasus.
The men wear 1t at times purely and simply
as hood, at others tied around the head as
turban, or else lying loosely around the
the long. full coat Of the Caucasus. but
looks out Of place and absurd when worn
by man in ordinary dress.
One rarely sees Caucasian women; why,
we could not find out, but there are many
Armenian women to be seen. always pretty
with their large, cowlike eyes and clear,
olive skins The head apparel. an embroid-
cred VEIL adds much to their looks I'M
y,
the handsomest women we had ever seen.
At one Of the many small stations at which
the Tif1is- Batoum express stops We were
greatly interested in watching the progress
Of a Caucasian family evidently making for
the train. We met them a mile or two
from the station, the father stalking along
in his swinging coat OF rusty brown, his
hood of white wool stuff lying across his
shoulders, and in his arms a large, sturdy
baby. The mother, wearing much-patch-
ed, nondeScript costume and carrying
huge bundle done up in a Daghestan rug;
and small boy of seven or eight stagger-
ing along under the weight of pet lamb.
They did not in amy way hasten their steps,
but the express, being Of an obliging ma
ture, changed it's time. schedule and waited
for the family to arrive.
Nearing Comforts Again.
The long cloaks, as we neared the civili-
cation of Batoum and the coast, became
more subdued In color and, in place of
blazing orange, terra-eotta and scarlet,
were of a dark brown or tan color At
each station shrine, set in the wall,
and nearly always some man before it,
crossing himself and kissing the glass at
the points Of the cross. We found plenty
to buy in the way of things to eat and to
drink, among other things green figs strung
on willow twigs and baskets OF peaches at
l cent pound.
At 11:3O we came to the dinner station
and had at that unearthly hour for dining,
hearty meal of the usual SOUP PURGE of
sour spinach with sour cream to use with
it; the usual Caucasian meat dish, bits OF
mutton roasted on sticks and brought In
that way to the table, chicken roasted with
small tomatoes around it, and. for dessert,
pastry made with rancid butter and Nt-
tie apple sauce.
We were raced at one place by a ragged
youth on a fat jolly pony, and he came
out ahead! His saddle being straw pad
with ropes across it on which were attached
two straw slippers stirrups, and his
bride was bitless.
We reached Batoum at and spent the
evening on the boulevard, little mournful
at the thought of leaving the Caucasus and
ending UP the weeks which we could
slider among the pleasantest of our lives.
MARGARET STIRLING.