life—­his glory, and the favor of his sovereign.  He would sometimes show them to a stranger, exhibiting them one by one, and setting his stamp of value on each, as he would say, “At such an action I gained this order—­at such another, this;” and so on till he had told the remarkable occurrence to which he owed the possession of each—­a pride that was natural in one who had earned them so bravely.  His whole style of living was marked by the greatest simplicity.  He preferred the plainest apartment, without any article of luxury:  he scarcely ever slept in a house when his troops were encamped; and he not only stayed in his tent at night, but for the most part of the day, only entering the house appropriated to his staff at dinner-time.  Throughout his whole military career he had never passed an entire night in bed.  He stretched himself, when he lay down to rest, on a bundle of hay; nor would he indulge himself in a more luxurious couch, even in the palace of the Empress.  He had no carriage, but a plain kibitk, (a sort of chariot,) drawn by hired horses, for he kept no horses; but when he required one, as on the occasion of a review or some other military operation, he mounted any which chanced to be at hand.  Sometimes it belonged to one of the Cossacks, but oftener was lent to him by his aid-de-camp, Tichinka.  He was without servants, keeping but one attendant to wait upon himself, and employing some of the soldiers in the service of his house.  This mode of living arose not from parsimony, but from an utter indifference to any kind of indulgence, which he considered beneath a soldier’s attention.  He had a contempt for money as a means of procuring gratification, but valued it as often affording him the pleasure of being generous and kind.  He gave up his entire share of the immense booty at Ismail, and divided it among his soldiers.  He never carried any money about him, or asked the price of anything, but left all to the management of Tichinka.  His strictness in doing what he considered just, when he conceived himself in the slightest degree accountable, was very remarkable.  On one occasion an officer had lost at play sixty rubles, with which he had supplied himself from the military chest.  Suwarrow reprimanded the officer severely, but refunded the sum from his own resources.  “It is right,” said he, in a letter to the Empress, in which he alluded to the circumstance, “it is right that I should make it good, for I am answerable for the officers I employ.”  One of Suwarrow’s odd peculiarities consisted in keeping up the appearance of a soldier at all times.  When he saluted any person, he drew up, turned out his toes, threw back his shoulders, kept himself quite erect, and turned the back of his hand to his helmet, as soldiers do when saluting their officers.  He was greatly attached to Tichinka, an old soldier, who had once saved his life.  From that time he never separated from him:  he made him his aid-de-camp, and gave him the sole management of all his affairs.