ld ever keep peace and union in view in all
matters of state, and that in their duties to the state they must never
forget their responsibility to the Most High. Wuczicz, dressed in the
coarse frieze jacket and boots of a Servian peasant, heard, with a
reverential inclination of the head, the discourse of the prelate, but
nought relaxed one muscle of that adamantine visage: the finer but more
luminous features of Petronevich were under the control of a less
powerful will. At certain passages his intelligent eye was moistened
with tears. Two deacons then prayed successively for the Sultan, the
Emperor of Russia, and the Prince,--and now uprose from every tongue,
and every heart, a hymn for the longevity of Wuczicz and Petronevich.
'The Solemn Song for Many Days' is the title of this sublime chant,
which is so old that its origin is lost in the obscure dawn of
Christianity in the East, and so massive, so nobly simple, as to be
beyond the ravages of time, and the caprices of convention." The town
was illuminated in the evening; and a ball was given at the new Konak or
palace, built by the exiled Prince Michael, which was attended "by all
the rank and fashion of Belgrade--senators of the old school, in their
benishes and shalwars, and senators of the new school, in pantaloons and
stiff cravats," which we agree with Mr Paton in considering as no
improvement on the graceful costume of the East. The Servian ladies,
however, have in general the good taste to retain the old national
costume; and "no head-dress that I have seen in the Levant is better
calculated to set off beauty. From a small Greek fez they suspend a gold
tassel, which contrasts with the black and glossy hair, which is laid
smooth and flat down the temple. The sister of the Princess, who was
admitted to be the handsomest woman in the room, with her tunic of
crimson velvet, embroidered in gold, and faced with sable, would have
been, in her strictly indigenous costume, the queen of any fancy ball in
old Europe."

While occupied by his preparations for a tour into the interior, Mr
Paton one day encountered "a strange figure, with a long white beard,
and a Spanish cap, mounted on a sorry horse"--this was no other than
Holman, the well-known blind traveller, whom he had last seen at Aleppo,
and who, having passed in safety, under the safeguard of his infirmity,
through the most dangerous parts of Bosnia, was now on his way to
Walachia. He instantly recognised Mr Pato