The Russian officers and the Russian troops from the British standpoint of to-day were licentious, dissipated and immoral, as well as rough to occasional brutality. They drank freely, lived as well as their means permitted, and enjoyed themselves as far as circumstances allowed. When they left they took with them their women, their drink, their dirt, their noise--and the goodwill of the bulk of the foreign residents. Judged by the standard of to-day they lack seriousness, refinement and education. They eat and drink too much and are coarse and sensual in their appetites. Compared with our British forefathers, even with those who fought in the Napoleonic wars, they are not so rude, nor is their life so bad as when it is contrasted with our armies of the present generation--and, as soldiers, they lack most ardour for their profession and the courage that comes from an intelligent conception of duty. There came to Newchwang two naval officers whom I knew well. Each was typical of a class of officer common in the Russian navy, both had about the same rank in the service. Big Vassy was one of the tallest and heaviest men in the fleet, a gigantic child; boisterous, frank, liberal and careless of his reputation. He was an incorrigible shirker. Many times he was punished for neglect of duty, usually he managed to escape the penalty. He received ten days’ confinement to barracks and the first day he prevailed upon his guard to allow him to go into the town to get a bath, promising to return within three hours, but in a small place like Port Arthur the tenth day came before they found him. He would bully and cajole, and get his own way. He was so prolific with promises, and so entirely the jolly good fellow all round, who loved wine, woman and song too well, that his superior officers tolerated him, and looked aside when his shortcomings were before them. He had command of a ship, but had no more intention of risking his life in this war than had Admiral Alexeiev or the Tsar himself. One night I was sitting in the Central Hotel, then the rendezvous of Russian officers, when big Vassy unexpectedly burst into the room; he did not stop to open the door, he just put his fist against the panel and sent the flimsy fastenings far and wide. He thrust his sword and revolver into my hands. “Where is she? Where is Tatianne?” “Tatianne who? Where have you sprung from? What is the matter with you?” “Where is Tatianne? Tatianne Ivanovna, you know her? Where is she? Where is she? She came from Port Arthur five days ago, you have seen her, where is she?” “Well, she isn’t here. Sit down. What will you have? Boy!” “Nothing. Tell me, where is she?” “She was staying with your friends, up at the other end of the settlement. I don’t know where she is now.” “But you must. Take me to her! Come! Come quickly!” He dragged me to the door; resistance was useless. “I’ll take you there in a minute. How did you get here?” “Yes, take me. Come! Come quickly, come!”