A PEASANT'S HOLIDAY. 69 



Caucasus has but little either at Tiflis or 

 Kutais to interest and amuse him, few duties, 

 fewer pleasures. There is no good theatre, the 

 concerts are few, poor, and of a low class ; 

 clubs, I think, there are none. He cares little 

 for the chase, and his own stake in his native 

 country has become so small that he cares 

 little for the government of it. The climate 

 is too hot and enervating for any but the 

 most sluggish life to be lived in it, so the rich 

 man solaces himself with wine and tobacco ; 

 but wine is his great good. 



The j)easant's idea of a holiday is a bright 

 day spent baskmg under the shade of a big 

 walnut tree on a bank outside the village, his 

 friends, male and female, lounging round him ; 

 on the grass, an infinite number of little red 

 earthen pots, corked with a bundle of green 

 leaves, to be emptied to the accompaniment of 

 toast and song. A hard head for withstand- 

 ino- the effect of wme is one of the most 



