Across Coveted Lands | Page 3

to Baku would have been to proceed to Moscow and

then by the so-called "petroleum express," which leaves once a week,
every Tuesday, for Baku. Unluckily, I could not reach Moscow in time,
and therefore decided to travel across Russia by the next best route, via
Kiev, Rostoff, and the Caspian. The few hours I remained in Warsaw
were pleasantly spent in going about seeing the usual sights; the Palace
and lovely Lazienski gardens, laid out in the old bed of the Vistula; the
out-of-door theatre on a small island, the auditorium being separated by
water from the stage; the lakes, the Saski Ogrod, and the Krasinski
public gardens; the Jewish quarter of the town; the museums of ancient
and modern art.
There are few cities in Europe that are prettier, cleaner, and more
animated than Warsaw, and few women in the world that have a better
claim to good looks than the Warsaw fair sex. The majority of women
one sees in the streets are handsome, and carry themselves well, and
their dress is in good taste, never over-done as it is in Paris, for
instance.
The whole city has a flourishing appearance, with its tramways, gay
omnibuses, electric light, telephones, and every modern convenience.
The streets are broad and cheerful. In the newer parts of the city there
are beautiful residences, several of which, I was told, belong to British
subjects settled there. The Russian military element is very strong, for
Poland's love for Russia is not yet very great. As we walk along the
main thoroughfares a long string of Cossacks, in their long black felt
cloaks and Astrakan caps, canter along. They are a remarkably
picturesque and business-like lot of soldiers.
Poles are civility itself, that is, of course, if one is civil to them.
Historically the place is of extreme interest, and the battlefields of
Novogeorgievsk, which played such an important part in the Polish
insurrection of 1831, and of Grochowo, where the Poles were defeated,
are well worth a visit. At Maciejowice, too, some fifty miles up the
Vistula, Kosciuzko was made prisoner by the conquering Russians.
Warsaw is the third largest city in the Russian Empire, and its
favourable geographical position makes it one of the great pivots of

Eastern Europe. With a navigable river and the great main railway lines
to important centres such as Berlin, Vienna, Moscow, St. Petersburg,
Dantzig, Kiev, and Odessa, with good climatic conditions, and fertile
soil; with the pick of natural talent in art and science, and the love for
enterprise that is innate in the Polish character, Warsaw cannot help
being a prosperous place.
The city has very extensive suburbs. The best known to foreigners,
Praga, on the opposite bank of the Vistula, is connected with Warsaw
by two iron bridges. Warsaw itself is built on terraces, one above
another, along the bank of the river, but the main portion of the city
stands on a high undulating plain above. There are over a hundred
Catholic, several Greek churches, and a number of synagogues; a
university, schools of art, academies, fourteen monasteries, and two
nunneries.
There are few places in the world where the artisan or the common
workman is more intelligent and artistic, and where the upper classes
are more refined and soundly cultured, than in Warsaw. With a certain
reflex of the neighbouring German commercial influence, the place has
become a thriving manufacturing and trading centre. Machinery,
excellent pianos and other musical instruments, carriages, silver and
electro-plate, boots and leather goods are manufactured and exported
on a large scale. The tanneries of Warsaw are renowned the world over,
and the Warsaw boots are much sought after all over the Russian
Empire for their softness, lightness and durability. Then there are great
exports of wheat, flax, sugar, beer, spirits, and tobacco.
But time is short, and we must drive to the station. Say what you will
about the Russian, there is a thing that he certainly knows how to do.
He knows how to travel by rail. One has a great many preconceived
ideas of the Russian and his ways. One is always reminded that he is a
barbarian, that he is ignorant, that he is dirty. He is possibly a barbarian
in one way, that he can differentiate good from bad, real comfort from
"optical illusions" or illusions of any other kind, a thing highly civilised
people seem generally unable to do. This is particularly noticeable in
Russian railway travelling,--probably the best and cheapest in the

world.
To begin with, when you take a first-class ticket it entitles you to a seat
numbered and reserved that nobody can appropriate. No more tickets
are sold than correspond with the accommodation provided in the train.
This does away entirely with the "leaving one's umbrella" business, to
secure a seat,