e while, and within the same walls, where he had deemed himself
secure, Julius Nepos fell a victim to the assassin's knife, and
subsequently we find the houseless Salonites sheltering themselves
within its subterraneous passages, when driven from their homes by the
fury of the invading Avars. The memory of all these is passed away, but
the stones still remain an undying testimony of a happy king.

Having passed some hours in the town and palace, I adjourned to one of
the few small _cafes_ in the principal street. While sipping my
chocolate, I was accosted by an elderly priest, who most civilly
enquired whether he could help me in any way during my stay at
Spalatro. He proved to be a person of much intelligence, and,
notwithstanding that his knowledge of English extended only to a few
conversational words, he had read Sir Gardner Wilkinson's work on
Dalmatia, and, as his remarks showed, not without profiting thereby. At
4.30 the same afternoon we arrived at Lissa, the military port of
Austria in this part of the Adriatic. It is interesting to English
travellers, its waters having been the scene of a naval action in which
an English squadron, commanded by Captain Hoste, defeated a French
squadron carrying nearly double as many guns. During the great war the
island belonged to England, and indeed a portion of it is called to this
day the Citta Inglese. It at one time acquired a certain importance in a
mercantile point of view, sardines being the staple article of commerce.

The same night we touched at Curzola, and at 4 A.M. on
September 3 anchored at Gravosa, the port of debarcation for Ragusa.
Taking leave of my friends on board, I landed at about 5 A.M.,
and, having committed my luggage, a small bullock trunk, saddle-bags,
and a saddle, to the shoulders of a sturdy facchino, and myself to a
very rickety and diminutive cart, I proceeded on my way to Ragusa. The
drive, about a mile and a half in distance, abounds with pretty views,
while the town of Ragusa itself is as picturesque in its interior
detail as it is interesting from its early history. The grass-grown
streets, the half-ruined palaces, and the _far niente_ manners of the
people, give little indication of the high position which the Republic
once achieved. Yet, despite all these emblems of decay, there are no
signs of abject poverty, but rather a spirit of frugal contentment is
everywhere apparent.

Arriving at an hour when, in the more fastidious capitals of