26 BAKU, THE CITY OF OIL WELLS
flowers are really to thrive, it is said that earth must be imported from Lankuran farther down on the Caspian. The busy wheels of commerce that roll out from Baku are lubri- cated with the native product ; the engines and steamers are propelled by it ; the coffers of the great petroleum companies are filled by it ; and the bourse of the city's exchequer is governed by its rise and fall.
Long trains of tank cars line the track as one approaches Baku from Batum and Tiflis on the west, or from Beslan and Petrovsk on the north. A pall of smoke hangs its heavy drapery over the * Black Town ' (Tchorny Gorod) in the oil section on the eastern and northern outskirts of the city. Forests of wooden and iron pyramidal towers serrate the horizon as one looks over the petroleum belt of Balakhany, Sabunchy, and Romany to the north, or over Bibi-Eibat on the south. At times lurid flames burst into the sky if a conflagration takes place in one of these inflammable sources, and then there is danger that the titan torch may destroy everything in its radius, engulfing it in a veritable holocaust of flame.
The train moves slowly as we draw to our destination, giving us a good opportunity to form a general idea of the city and its surroundings. A few minutes later the halt is made in the well-appointed railway station — a station worthy of Europe — and we crowd our way through a throng of Tatars, Armenians, Georgians, Persians, and Cossacks, gathered on the platform and waiting to scramble across the tracks to catch an outgoing local train, in which some Russian work- men have already taken seats. At the exit of the station a polite hotel porter is standing by the steps. He has French, besides several other languages, at his polyglot command, so that we are at once reminded of distant Paris, and feel an added sense of comfort when he assures us that his particular hotel is the very best in Baku. In a minute more our luggage is being tossed into one of the Russian phaetons in
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