36 CASUALS IN THE CAUCASUS 



Railway communication between Batoum and Tiflis 

 is very good, if slightly infrequent. There are two 

 trains in the twenty-four hours — we left Batoum at 

 944 p.m. — and the journey takes thirteen hours or so 

 to accomplish. The appearance of the outside of the 

 train is misleading, for the accommodation is good, 

 and, first-class at least, quite clean. A couple of 

 squat little engines, with two funnels each, driven by 

 petroleum, dragged us along. 



Our Samaritan friend joined us at a midnight supper 

 party contrived from our stores and tea-basket. He 

 was a fine upstanding stalwart of about forty years 

 of age, Hebraic-looking, and comely enough in his way. 

 When anyone made a remark he turned his eye with 

 eagle keenness on the speaker, his face alert with 

 interest. Among his own people I daresay he was 

 rated as a handsome man, but our English insularity 

 overlooked his type, and we merely dismissed his 

 claims with the comprehensive " does not come up to 

 our ideal," serenely indifferent to the fact that these 

 much-trotted-out ideals of ours have not even the 

 advantage of originality. The whole lot of them, 

 impeders of progress very often, are merely legacies, 

 bequeathed to us from precedent and family tradition. 



Our new acquaintance revealed himself presently as 

 the scion of a Karbardan family, all apparently tutelary 

 hereditary princes. Cecily always maintains that she 

 can tell at a glance by the look of a man what he 

 does and how he does it. She was floored here, for 

 national dress is a great leveller, and it is only by the 

 " trimmings " — if I may call the silver embellishments 



