100 CASUALS IN THE CAUCASUS 



Shereffedin Ali, in his Life of Timur naively de- 

 scribed it. The wily Timur chose the winter for his 

 onslaught, knowing that the great basin in the hills 

 would be snow-filled, and escape difficult. " The side 

 of the mountain, which had been pure white with 

 snow, bedame as red as a field of tulip with the blood 

 of these infidels," is Shereffedin's poetical way of 

 putting the horrors of the incursion. 



We rode past a very Eastern-looking Arcade, or 

 Bazaar, through stone-paved streets to the local Ritz, 

 where an evil-faced proprietor received us in chilling 

 fashion. That illogical connexion which binds rude- 

 ness and truth, politeness and insincerity, was prob- 

 ably responsible for the trust we placed in our un- 

 prepossessing host. 



" So rugged was he that we thought him just, 

 So churlish was he that we deemed him true." 



And, of course, he was neither, and a very bad hotel- 

 keeper at that. However — needs must, and we thought 

 it too late to seek another lodging. 



Telav lies on the main posting route from Tiflis to 

 Petrovsk, and the habitations known as post-stations 

 which offer hospitality to the traveller o' nights need 

 a page of description to themselves. 



The first necessity, without which no self-respecting 

 post-house would have a reason for holding up its roof, 

 is a bright oleograph of the Tsar of all the Russias. 

 His eyes are very blue, his hair matches the lavish gold 

 decorations which spread all over his tunic and descend 

 to the frame line at the waist, farther, I expect, if we 

 could only follow. 



