68 CASUALS IN THE CAUCASUS 



what I should think is the least known expenditure of 

 officer effort. Daily routine as we know it, ever- 

 lasting parades, and morning perambulation of bar- 

 racks for the smelling of meat, are simply non sunt. 



Although the Caucasian Army stands free now of 

 the " stellenbosch " aspersion, the country is used by 

 Russia as a sort of half-way house to Siberia for 

 unwanted politicals. They are marked men, these 

 disturbing vital spirits, lonely and unwelcome in the 

 better circles everywhere. I noticed, in the case of a 

 keen-eyed, educated idler, necessity had been made 

 into a virtue. He did not seem to require the society 

 of his kind, did not shun it, rather he appeared to 

 have forgotten them. I could not help but admire his 

 silent acceptance of the position. One may admire the 

 courage of absolute indifference to ostracism, but those 

 who have this courage are seldom great men and 

 never good ones. 



Every Tiflisian — to coin a word — puts Amusement 

 with a big "A" first, duty, with a small "d" next. 

 Amusement is a fetish, an Ixion's wheel to which every- 

 one is chained. 



There is very little of the morning left by the 

 time the educated Russian rises. He is, like the 

 eagle-owls, most alert at night. About 9 p.m. he rubs 

 his eyes and wakens up, previous to repairing to the 

 clubs which are so important a feature in the Caucasian 

 capital. They are not clubs, as we understand the 

 word. The peaceful gloom of the ponderously furnished 

 mausoleum, lightened up in drifts, the sense of museum- 

 like stillness, which spells " club " to the Londoner, 



