which at first is hardly to be
comprehended. It is too stupendous. Such a masterpiece of Nature can
never tire.

Montenegrins crowd the streets, and the little market is full of
peasants who have wearily staggered down those steep paths in the
early dawn with their enormous loads of field produce. Stately men
wearing the insignia of their rank on their little caps pace up and
down majestically and contrast strangely with the dapper Austrian
officers. Their belts yawn suggestively, something is missing to
complete the attire. It is the revolver, which Austrian law compels
them to leave behind on entering her land. They are obviously ill at
ease without that familiar weapon, for ever and anon a hand strays
unconsciously to the empty belt seeking its wonted resting-place on
the butt.

Strolling one night on the Riva, we involuntarily held our breath as
we came in sight of the huge lake, for it is easy to forget that this
is the Adria. The waters lay unruffled before us, not a ripple
disturbed those glassy depths which reflected every tree and cottage
on the opposite bank. Each star found its double twinkling in that
placid mirror, and mountain frowned back on mountain. It was almost
unreal, so marvellous was the reflection. Behind us, at the top of the
great ridge, a silvery effulgence proclaimed the coming of the moon.
Her brilliant light silhouetted the grim and rocky ridge in startling
clearness, though it was four thousand feet above us. Through a gap
rises a peak, round which a filmy cloud had lovingly wrapped itself
like a lace shawl upon the snowy shoulders of a beautiful woman. We
took a turn down the quay, and at the end we turned our back on this
witching view. Hardly had we retraced our steps a few yards when we
and all our surroundings were bathed in a glorious white light. We
turned again, and were almost forced to shield our eyes as we gazed on
the gentle orb which had now surmounted the intervening ridge. The
whole fjord was now transformed into a sea of silver almost as bright
as midday. Each nestling village was distinct, even to the tiniest
window; each tree and shrub on the wall-like mountain, and even the
grim forts, were softened in that sweet radiance. The little paths
which zigzag up the hills to the forts above look like great white
snakes turning and twisting up those rugged cliffs.

At four o'clock on the following morning we made a start, and were
well up the mountain by the time that the su