to the sea on inaccessible cliffs,
surrounded by lofty walls, with a great hill as a background, it has
well been called the prettiest bit of Dalmatia. It possesses a
magnificent winter climate and a good hotel, so that people are
forsaking the Riviera for this comparatively unknown paradise.

Far too soon Ragusa fades away, and now the approaching mountains grow
higher and wilder. Those lofty peaks, towering above the others, black
and forbidding, are Nature's bulwarks of the land which we are
visiting. It is from a distance that the name "Black Mountain" seems
so aptly given to this fierce little state, though some historians
wish to explain the derivation otherwise.

The Bocche (or mouths) di Cattaro, three in number, are a consummate
blending of the Norwegian fjords and the Swiss lakes, and so lofty and
steep are the surrounding mountains that the sun can only reach the
bottom for a few hours at midday.

Away at the end of one fjord lies the village of Risano, an idyllic
spot, whence a road is in the course of construction to Niksic. All
the worthy Bocchese are absolutely Montenegrin in sympathy, and
Austria has had much trouble with these equally warlike Serbs.

A curious conical hill rises out of the town, a high wall zigzags up
to the fort above, showing Cattaro's strength of former days. Now, a
few insignificant mounds of earth far away on the mountain-tops are
all that is to be seen of the military might of modern Cattaro. Yet
how powerful are those forts only the Austrian authorities know.
Cattaro and the Bocche are impregnable from sea or land, though this
array of strength against land attack seems almost unnecessary, as
Montenegro possesses no heavy cannon at all. However, Austria is not
reckoning in this case with Montenegro alone. But these are political
questions.

We were fortunate in securing a carriage of the Montenegrin post,
which has good drivers, and what is still better, a fixed tariff, over
which there can be no dispute. The drivers of Cattaro ask, and often
get, twice the legal fare from ignorant strangers.

Cattaro affords no comforts to the traveller; more is the pity, as it
is one of the most magnificent spots in the world. The town itself is
tiny and a perfect maze of little Venetian streets, in which it is
easy to lose oneself if it were only larger. To walk upon the Riva and
gaze upon those precipitous mountains which tower above the town and
its militarily guarded walls is a sight